


Fistbump

by kittensmctavish



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Airports, Aromantic, Aromantic spectrum, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Bittersweet, Blood, Cliche, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Epistolary, F/M, Fluff, Holding Hands, Karaoke, Music, Panic Attacks, Sex Repulsion, Singing, Slow Burn, Wakes & Funerals, airport, airport security, choir, sex-repulsed asexual, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:57:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 58,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittensmctavish/pseuds/kittensmctavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You meet someone you never expected to meet. Especially at the airport...</p>
<p>STORY NOW CONSIDERED COMPLETED; READ FOOTNOTE AT END OF LAST CHAPTER FOR MORE INFO.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prickly-Dos

**Author's Note:**

> Recently took a flight and this popped into my head while I was in a ridiculously long line to get part security. Ended up taking me two days to write and it takes too many turns and can't decide what genre it wanted to be. It started funny and awkward then got cliche and then funny again and ten cliche again and then the ending...I don't even know. 
> 
> I guess my point is, who HASNT imagined how awkward it would be to meet a famous person at a place as mundane at the airport?

You half-groaned, half-sighed at the security line at the airport. No matter the time of year, no matter the day of the week, it always seemed to be busy. You shifted your carryons - laptop bag, purse, a sweatshirt - and walked over to take your place in the queue. 

You were the last - for now - and it didn't seem like the line was going to be moving anytime soon. Your phone vibrated through the leather of your purse to your palm, and you sighed, shifting envy thing in your arms once again to fetch the phone. Your mom texting you. Asking if you were at the airport. You rolled your eyes and texted a response (yes, you were, you're a responsible adult). Immediate response from her. More questions. It came from a place of love, but was no less overbearing. 

Your reverie of answering was interrupted by someone colliding with your back. 

"Oh! I'm so sorry, it's just--sorry, I thought you knew the line was moving, I just...autopilot, you know?"

You turned your head over your shoulder and tried not to visibly react. 

You'd always wondered and feared what you would do and what would happen, were you to meet someone famous at the airport. How disheveled and harried your appearance probably would be, what degree of frustration you'd be feeling. 

Granted, Dan Avidan wasn't...FAMOUS famous. Not compared to, say, Stephen King or one of the guys from MST3K. But to a nerd like you - one of those nerds who regularly binge-watched Game Grumps - Dan might as well have been...like...well, Stephen King or one of the guys from MST3K. 

"Oh."

Yep. That's about what you'd expect would come out of your mouth in this situation. But you covered quickly. 

"No, I'm sorry. I should have been paying more attention to the line itself," you said, your words matching the hurry in your step to move the line ahead (and yeah, jeez, you'd left quite a gap.) and you figured that would be the end of your (quite literal) encounter with Dan Avidan from Game Grumps. 

"I wouldn't worry about it. We still probably have another thirty minutes ahead of us in this line."

Apparently not. Given that he'd spoken another two sentences to you. Without thinking, you nodded - knee-jerk reaction. Well, neck-jerk. He laughed quietly behind you. "That bad here, huh?"

"All the time," you said. He laughed again. You fought the urge to look behind you. Not sit because holy crap, it was Dan Avidan, but Dan Avidan was breaking petty much all the unspoken rules that came with standing in the security line at the airport. What you were SUPPOSED to do was stand in line quietly, occasionally shifting your weight form one foot to the other, and clumsily organize all your stuff so you were ready as you could be for the x-ray bins, with the added quadruple-checking that you had your boarding pass and ID ready for the TSA agent.

Speaking of...you DID have your boarding pass and ID, didn't you? You piled all your stuff into one arm and, with the other, tried to reach and check all your pockets. Your drivers license had to be in one of them...

"Need a hand?" Again, Dan had spoken from behind you. 

"Oh, that's okay, you don't have to--" you began, but he moved into your line of vision, arms slightly outstretched. In your search for your license, you'd unknowingly turned towards him more, anyway. A small smile graced his face, so...the "I know, but I want to" went unspoken. You forced yourself to return a smile as you looped the strap of your laptop bag into his hand and murmured a "thank you". 

"No problem," he replied. You forced another smile and resumed your search for your license (which was, admittedly, much easier now). He continued to talk to you as you did. "I mean, it's only fair given that I never travel with much in the way of carryons, anyway." You looked up at him. 

"Well, technically, you don't have ANY carryons," you said. 

"Yeah..." he said with mock sheepishness. "Well...I have one of YOURS now and I AM gonna run away with it once we're through the machines."

"Aren't you not supposed to joke about things like that at the airport?" you asked him, attention fully on him now that you'd found your license. Well...not FULLY, per se, you thought to yourself as you followed the person in front of you further up the line. 

"Yeah, probably not," he shrugged. "Kinda like how I shouldn't abbreviate the name Robert, right?"

"Oh my god..." You could not laugh, not like you usually did at Dan's jokes on Game Grumps. Not in public, and ESPECIALLY not at the airport. 

"Or talk about my favorite Runaways song, or my favorite thing that can hurt you from the Mario games."

"Queens of Noise and those prickly-dos, right?"

Now it was Dan's turn to try not to laugh. 

"I have never heard the Pokeys referred to as 'prickly-dos' before," he said. 

"Well, I didn't really grow up with video games," you defended yourself. "I played Super Mario Bros maybe, like, five times at my babysitter's house when I was little, so..."

The line had moved a lot faster than you'd anticipated, and you were close to the front now. Well, close to the TSA agent. 

"May I have my bag back, please, Dan?" you asked. 

You froze. 

Shit. 

He froze. His eyes widened a bit. 

Fuck. 

He'd never told you his name. Now he knew you were a fangirl. 

Fuck shit cock and fuck again. 

"Next in line, please!" came the terse call of a TSA agent. You grabbed your bag from Dan's hand before he could blink. 

"That's me goodbye so sorry," you blurted out before quickly turning and crossing the "Do Not Cross Until Told" barrier to the TSA agent. 

If Dan wanted to say anything else to you at that moment - or in the following few moments - it wasn't gonna happen. Not because you weren't gonna make it happen, but you two had ended up in the absolute opposite lines for the scanning machines. So you had a good five minutes to calm down and take your shoes off, pile everything into bins, push them along the conveyor belt, step forward, raise your hands over your head, be scanned, and hopefully not be patted down by security (hope fulfilled with a lack of frisking).

You stretched time out further by stacking your empty bins and other empty bins up to put on the stack at the end of the belt. Then you gathered your things and made for an empty bench to reorganize yourself. Unfortunately, as you were trying to pull on your shoes, a now-familiar-in-person voice reached your ears. 

"Wouldn't that be easier if you untied your shoes first?"

God fucking shit fucking fuck crap. 

"I'm stubborn," you said to Dan without looking at him, trying harder to pull your lace up shoes on without unlocking them. You'd done it before many times, you were gonna do it again. 

"...did you know that the area where you get your stuff together after passing through security at the airport is called the recombobulation area?" Dan said after a movement of watching you battle with your shoes. 

"I do now," you said with a casualness you did not feel at all. "Doesn't sound real but..."

"Might not be."

"Wouldn't surprise me."

You won the battle with your shoes, slung your purse strap over your shoulder, picked up your laptop bag, and stood. You didn't even want to brush by him, you wanted to run, wanted to save yourself further slip ups or embarrassment. 

A wrist around your hand was going to make that difficult. 

"Listen, um...sorry, I don't even know your name--"

"Yes, I know, and I know yours. And I'm sorry." Embarrassment was imminent but you couldn't stop yourself. "I didn't want to be that fan, I DON'T want to be that fan, because this is an airport, not a con or a concert or anything, and I know you don't want anyone bothering you when you're just...you're a regular person like everyone else but you're not and oh god I'm screwing everything up and--"

Dan squeezed your hand and didn't release his grip. You stopped. You still couldn't look at him. You didn't want to see his face. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered, for fear that speaking any louder would result in you bursting into tears. "Please let me go. I'm sorry."

"Hey." He stopped you from repeating your apologies further. "Look at me. Please?" The squeeze on your hand tightened and loosened, reassuring. You looked up. Kindness. Gentility. You had to look down again, if you were going to cry, he couldn't see, no, never. 

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he said softly. "You didn't act like 'one of those fans', as you put it. You're NOT one of those fans. Even after the name drop, like, you didn't register as 'fangirl' to me. Just...this cool, kinda stressed because of the airport, kinda girl who...calls Pokeys from Mario 'prickly-dos'." You laughed in spite of your close-to-crying, and wiped a stray tear away. "Hey, come on...I'm not mad or anything. I promise I'm not. Would I be standing here holding your hand if I was?" You shook your head, not trusting your voice. "I'm standing here, talking to you, because I want to. I wanted to then, and I want to now."

You looked up at him again. His face hadn't changed for the worse; if anything, he looked as sincere as he'd sounded. You blinked, loosening another tear. Dan reached up with his free hand to wipe the tear away. 

"You don't..." Words were hard for you, especially because Dan kept his hand against your cheek, to try and steady your shaking. If anything, his touch was making you shake more. "I don't deserve this, this...from you. You barely know me and you're talking to me like I'm the most important girl in the world." You reached up to bring his hand down from your face, but he held tight to your hand, your HANDS. He hadn't let go of the other one. 

"Well, maybe you are and I don't know it yet," Dan said. 

"Is that why we're holding hands and looking at each other like we're the only people in the world while everyone walks around us not noticing, like you see in romantic comedies?" you asked, calming down enough to try and brush everything off the humor. It worked enough to make Dan laugh...which helped set you at ease as well. 

"I don't know what romantic comedies you've been watching but..."

"None, actually. I prefer horror movies."

More laughter. And despite your claim of a cliche, it was one you two were content, for the time, to stay in.

"Well, from what I know about you so far," Dan said, "I'd like to get to know you better. Not as a minor internet celeb getting to know a fan. As...someone in line at airport security who made a connection with the person in front of him at airport security." It was your turn to squeeze his hands. 

"I think I can do that...but...please understand if it's still awkward for me," you said, loosening your grip on his hands. He acquiesced, letting them drop. "That's one thing you'll learn soon enough, I'm a very awkward person."

"Oh, I noticed that in line at airport security," Dan said. You reached out to lightly punch him in the shoulder. "Now...um...I don't even know where you're headed."

"Not L.A. ...which I assume is where you're going," you said. He nodded. "Well...I'm one of those weirdos who likes to get to the airport ridiculously early because it might take half an hour to get through airport security. So...if you have time, we could have a late breakfast? Early lunch?"

"Sure," Dan said. "I'm not really familiar with this airport. Any place in particular that's good? I was looking at a directory earlier and didn't notice any chains."

"Well, not any of the national ones," you explained, beginning to walk in the direction of the food court. "It's mostly local chains. There's a really good barbecue place. They make a mean brisket sandwich."

"Oh. Brisket. Is that how it's gonna be?" Dan nudged you in the shoulder. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mister Jewfro," you said innocently. He nudged you in the shoulder again, harder, but laughing. 

"Well, we'll see if it can top Granny Sexbang's mean brisket," Dan said. 

Fifteen minutes later, Dan was moaning quite indecently over a mouthful of barbecue such coated beef. 

"Dude, there are other people present," you said, looking around and praying that no one was staring. 

"I don't care, I'm in love," Dan moaned again. "I wanna marry this brisket. I wanna marry YOU for introducing me to this brisket."

"We haven't even had a first date," you laughed, handing him a napkin to clean the barbecue sauce from his face. 

"Well, what is this if not a first date?" Dan asked, taking the napkin. 

"A first meal between maybe-friends?" you suggested, shaking your head at the rather poor job Dan had done of cleaning himself up. You reached over. "Here, you.ve still got some..."

"I've got a little schmutz?" Dan said in his best Jewish-grandmother voice. 

"Shut up!" you laughed, brushing your thumb against the corner of his mouth. 

"See, you're already acting like a girlfriend," Dan accused. 

"More like your grandmother, given the schmutz remark," you said. 

"Hey!"

"I know, I know, I'm nowhere near as cool as Granny Sexbang. I'm fine with that."

As wonderful as Dan's laugh was - and as much as it joyed you inside that you were the one making him laugh - you still felt uneasy. Like...you two were getting along WAY too well for people who'd met an hour ago in an airport security line. It scared you a bit. Okay, a lot. 

"Hey...everything okay?" Dan asked you. You looked up at him. Shit. Must have read on your face. 

"Yeah, just..." You avoided eye contact with him for the moment by wiping your hands clean with a fresh napkin. "Get stuck in my head sometimes and...whatever..."

"Okay...sure it wasn't just devastation from not being as cool as Granny Sexbang?" You looked up at Dan again, trying not to wind the napkin in your hands. His face read humor, but you saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. 

"You got me. I'm heartbroken."

"If it helps, you're definitely cooler than Ross."

"That...doesn't seem like a hard thing to be."

"Fine. You're way more adorable than Kevin."

"But that's impossible! Kevin is a precious cinnamon roll baby!"

"Would you just take the fucking compliment?"

"Hey. Watch your goddamn motherfucking language."

You'd apparently said that a bit too loud, as you heard a mother make an affronted noise while a small child pointed out that you'd said "the f-word". 

"Oops," Dan said, trying not to laugh and failing miserably. "That was...absolutely an Arin moment."

"As in, we've crossed that point in our..." You paused. "'Friendship' seems too sudden but..."

"Really?" Dan said. "Like...you've never met a person and just KNEW that you were gonna be in that person's life forever, or that you wanted them in your life forever?"

"Well...this is different," you said. "And I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm still a little freaking-out about the famous-and-fan dynamic but...only because..."

"If you're going to tell me you're not interesting enough or good enough..." Dan said. 

"I know, I'm trying not to," you said. "But I can't help it. Just the way my brain is wired, is all. Inferiority complex, low self-esteem, whatever you want to call it."

"I'd say 'I know what you mean', but that feels really trite," Dan said, glancing down as his phone lit up. He stifled a curse. "I need to get to my gate. Boarding starts soon." You looked down at your phone.

"Same." You stood up and took yours and Dan's empty plates. "I'll go toss everything. Watch my stuff?" Dan nodded. You walked over to the nearest garbage can (which wasn't near at all) and tossed everything accordingly. Recyclables, trash, et cetera. When you walked back over to Dan, he was holding your purse and laptop bag out for you. 

"You didn't steal anything, did you?" you asked, half-joking. 

"Just your use of 'prickly-dos'," Dan said. "I'm absolutely using that in the next Mario episode."

"And won't give me any credit?" you joked, taking your bags. 

"No, I will," Dan said as you two started to walk. "Won't name names if that makes you uncomfortable, but...just that I met this really awesome girl who calls them that." You felt your face heat up. 

"You're also free to tell them that I think the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who aren't scary at all once you realize they're basically Boos."

"If I watched Doctor Who, I'm sure I'd find that funnier." Dan was laughing regardless. 

The two of you paused in front of one of those charts that showed departure times and gates. Your eyes scanned over the names of cities to look for your destination...

...and your eyes, body, and heart froze at the increasingly familiar feeling of a hand slipping into yours. 

"I know...this is all weird," you heard Dan say, but fuzzily, as though he was a quiet radio, and you slowly turned your head to look at him to see if it would help his words register as real. "Not just for you, I know mostly for you, but...like...and this is gonna sound like the most cliche predictable awful unbelievable thing ever but...I'm glad I met you. And I want to know you better. And I just kind of really want to hold your hand right now while I can because I don't know when I'm going to see you again."

Genuine. Of course. But also a bit of melancholy, you saw in his eyes. The smile he gave you to try and hide it only made the melancholy more obvious. You smiled your own sad smile, shifting your hand in his to weave your fingers. 

"I don't really know what to say to that," you said finally, "...but okay." You squeezed his hand. 

The walk to his gate - the closest, yours being several down from his - was quiet between the two of you. A sad, but comfortable quiet. 

You still couldn't entirely believe the brushing of his side against yours, the slow strokes of his thumb over the top of your hand. Not just that it was Dan "Danny Sexbang" Avidan at your side...but Dan Avidan, someone who'd said a few times that commitment, or relationships, made him "twitchy". And you didn't know if anything he'd said to you meant he wanted that in the future. Something more casual than that. Just a friendship. 

Like...this shit didn't happen. This was the kind of shit that happened in really shitty fanfiction that was usually WRITTEN by wistful hopeless dreamers like yourself. This couldn't be real life, YOUR real life. 

People were already hovering around the gate to board the flight to Los Angeles. You and Dan paused about ten feet away from the gathering crowd. If there were gonna be goodbyes - please, no more cliches - it was clear they were going to be as private as they could be in an airport. 

"So..." Not so much spoken as sighed. 

"So," you echoed. "Where do you wanna go from here?"

"...not Los Angeles?"

"Come on..." You held out your free hand. "My number. Email address. Some manner of contacting me, that's what you want, I'm guessing. Presuming, anyway."

"Yeah, um..." Dan reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "May have...already slipped you that info earlier. In your bag."

"Sly dog."

He shrugged. You shrugged back. Your free hand was still out. He placed his free hand in it. 

"Cliche again?"

"Cliche again."

"...I guess it's okay."

Smiles exchanged, settling back into the gloomy quiet. You stared down at your joined hands, glanced up at him...

And your brain went haywire again - please don't move in closer Dan please don't make this any more cliche and contrived please don't lean in and kiss me because then I'll know this isn't real it's too fake it can't be real this is not how real life works please don't please don't please don't - 

"They're calling my class."

His hands slipped away. You looked up. Another sad smile. 

"I'll contact you," you said. "Promise." He smiled. "I'll let you know when I land. You do the same?"

"Yeah."

"Well...safe flight. It was...an experience meeting you."

"Same. ...goodbye."

"Bye."

He walked toward the line, still facing you at first, before he turned away with one more smile and hurried to board before it was too late. You watched the gate for a while even after he was long gone. And then you turned towards your own gate. Your own flight. 

Once you sat in your too-small too-cramped airplane seat, you tucked your laptop bag under the seat in front of you and settled your purse in your lap. You were reaching for your iPod to listen to music during the flight, and your fingers brushed paper. Thin flimsy crinkly napkin-y paper. You pulled the napkin out. 

Dan's contact info, as he promised. And a note. 

"I really am happy I met you. Not you the fan, but YOU. I know you'll doubt that, but I'll never stop telling you, so long as we're in each other's lives. ...p.s. Hope you don't mind, I took some cash from your wallet so I can pay cab fare."

You blinked. Really, Dan? You reached for your wallet. 

All bills still present. Another scrap of napkin tucked into them. 

"Made you look, didn't I?"

You covered your mouth, unsure if you wanted to laugh or cry.


	2. Landed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sort of immediately following the first chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this story overwhelmed me a bit, so...I will do my best to write more to this story. I have a few ideas but...we'll see how this goes. I'll continue this until people get sick of the story or I run out of ideas or...whatever.
> 
> Btw, check out the song Landed by Ben Folds. It good.

When your flight touched the ground, you took your phone out, turned it off airplane mode, and began to send the obligatory "I'm here and safe" messages. To your mom, your siblings, your best friend who lived too many countries away to count...

...the napkin stuck out from between the folds of the airplane safety guide. You quickly picked it up. (Like hell you were gonna leave Dan's contact information there for anyone to pick up.) The phone number stared at you. You stared back at it. 

It could be a fake number. Dan could be playing with you. Just...be nice to a fan for a while but never stay in contact with them again...the message just a joke...

...but it didn't seem like him. Not even because you'd known him for...well, a couple of hours, but...just from how he seemed on the show. You bit your lip...went to Contacts, entered his name, his number. 

There. That was done. 

Now...did you dare? 

To text or not to text? That was the question. Whether 'twas nobler to suffer the ...'s and typos of outrageous communication...

...yeah, Shakespeare you were not. 

Fuck it. 

You opened Messaging and selected "New Message", typed his name, paused. What to say exactly? "I'm here" seemed too plain. 

You glanced down at your iPod, which had been shuffling through the flight. A new song by a new artist. And you smiled as inspiration hit you. You typed:

"I opened my eyes and walked out the door, and the clouds came tumbling down, and it's bye-bye, goodbye, I tried"

You weren't sure he would get it - maybe too new for him, from what you gathered on the show, he tended towards 80s bands - but maybe...anyway, he was probably still in the air. Not to mention time zone changes, traffic...

The seatbelt sign dinged, and you looked up from your phone at the sound of all the seatbelts clicking open. You slipped the phone into the front pocket of your purse and prepared to stand up. Well...sit for a while before anyone moved off the plane, THEN stand up and leave it. Slowly. 

Traveling was such a pain in the ass. 

But half an hour later, your suitcase had come around on the carousel and you sat in the front seat of your mom's car as she drove to the house. Dad was working, your sister had class, but the weekend was soon, and you'd all be together for the first time in...what was it, a year since you'd been able to visit?

As she chattered on about things you'd missed and plans she'd made for while you were home, you pulled out your phone to check up on social media. 

No message from Dan yet. Not that you really expected one. But that was the pessimistic side of you talking. 

When you arrived home - well, home away from home, parents home, not home where you lived and worked - you pulled your suitcase into the guest room where you'd be staying. You unpacked a few things, but not many, and looked around. The bed looked comfy and inviting, you'd woken up early to finish packing, and dinner wasn't for a few hours...so you flopped yourself down. Didn't even bother to pull back the covers. Just curled into yourself and fell into a good nap...lord knows you hadn't taken one of those in yonks...

...you woke up to a knock on the door, blinking awake. It was mom - dad would be home soon, and dinner would be ready in about twenty minutes. You groaned, rubbing sleepiness from your eyes, and reached for your purse to find your phone and check the time. (There was always the clock on the bedside table but...fuck that.)

As the screen lit up, a notification...one new message, from about five minutes ago:

"If you wrote me off, I'd understand it, cause I've been on some other planet"

Fuck yeah. Dan had got it. You smiled. 

Before you could type a response, a new message from Dan popped up, right then and there:

"Okay, admittedly, I had to look that up to figure out what the fuck you meant."

You laughed, and quickly typed back. 

"If you don't say you're glad that I introduced you to Ben Folds, I'm going to be mildly upset with you."

"I'm INCREDIBLY glad you introduced me to Ben Folds."

"Fun fact: when recording whatever album that song appeared on, Ben Folds got fed up enough with the producers to finally ask them 'okay. What Elton John song do you want me to write?' They straight up said, 'Tiny Dancer'. And thus, the song 'Landed' was born."

"...I can totally hear that."

"You listening to the song right now as we speak?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"He has a lot of other good songs too."

"I'll have to check them out."

"Hurray. And now you'll have more songs to be nervous about singing on the show because of copyright and YouTube and awful. :P"

"And maybe one day the 'so come pick me up, I've landed' lyric will be put to good use."

"We'll see."

"...is it stupid to say I miss you?"

Knock knock knock. Your mom. Dinner was ready and Dad was home. Shit. You'd really been talking to Dan for that long? You sighed. 

"Food and family call. I have to go now."

You plugged your phone into the charger nearby and shuffled off the bed to leave the room. You missed the last new notification. The last new message from Dan. 

"Okay. Talk to you again soon. I hope. ...don't care if it's stupid to say, I do miss you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated. Please let me know if continuation was a bad idea. I'm hesitant.


	3. In which you and Dan text a lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. This STORY was inspired by a long airport security line. This CHAPTER was inspired by a long layover/delayed takeoff at the airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has not been a good few travel days for Homestar Runner. I mean...for me. So because I had so much fucking time at the airport, I wrote this nonsense.

You: KILL ME. 

Dan: um...no?

You: WELL FUCK YOU THEN. 

Dan: jeez, what did I ever do to you to deserve such hostility?

You: nothing...admittedly. I'm just pissed because I'm stuck at the airport waiting for my now-delayed flight. 

Dan: weren't you just at the airport, like, five days ago?

You: yeah. I was. You were there, remember?

Dan: oh yeah. 

You: I'm at the airport I was going to when I met you. I'm trying to get back to that airport in which we met. 

Dan: why didn't you tell me? Wanted to relive some good memories? We could've had a reunion! An anniversary! A weekiversary!

You: and that, kids, is how I met your father. 

Dan: imagining us with kids already?

You: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST FUCK MY LIFE I HATE THE WORLD

Dan: ...so that's a no?

You: MY FLIGHT HAS BEEN FUCKING DELAYED ANOTHER THREE FUCKING HOURS. AGAIN. KILL ME. 

Dan: and again, I say, um...no?

You: don't make me capslock WELL FUCK YOU THEN again at you. 

Dan: ...you literally just did. 

You: kids, your father was quite the little fucking sass master when I met him. 

Dan: okay, you are NOT allowed to tell this story to our kids because it is WAY too profane. 

You: I'm sorry I'm just frustrated. 

Dan: I don't blame you. And I'm sorry you're stuck there for way longer than you intended or deserve to be. 

You: ...dude, the lady sitting across from me at the gate has been staring like right at me for like ten minutes straight. 

Dan: ooh, she thinks you're pretty!

You: first of all,shut up, she's old enough to be my grandma...then again, you're old enough to be my grandpa so what do I know...

Dan: oh my heart

You: heart attack old man?

Dan: NO YOUR WORDS ARE HURTFUL

You: dude, I'm totally kidding. You're not THAT much older than me. 

Dan: but I am older than you?

You: by about ten years, yeah. I don't know what your cutoff age is but...

Dan: you're not twelve, so...

You: yeah, by the way, I hope you didn't make that 12-year-old girl who emailed you cry when you mentioned that in that one Mario Maker episode. I mean, you handled that as tactfully as you could but...still...don't know if I could handle my celebrity crush laughing about me like that. I mean, you bear your heart to someone...

Dan: true. I'll try to keep that in mind for the future. And tell Arin not to be a cockmunch about it if I ever slip up. 

You: like ten minutes from now? Actually, what ARE you doing right now? Grumping? I just texted you out of boredom and rage, I could have interrupted something important. 

Dan: not really. Wasn't up to much when you texted. 

You: okay good. Thought I'd interrupted filming or...jerking it or something. 

Dan: JESUS what kind of man do you think I am?

You: one who jerks it and talks about it on the net? And sings about it?

Dan: you got me there. So how's the airport?

You: so much fun. There's chairs and announcements and so much wAiting. 

Dan: yay, the waiting game!

You: the waiting game sucks. Let's play hungry hungry hippos. 

Dan: I'd be there in a heartbeat to play hungry hungry hippos with you if I could. 

You: if you could be here in a heartbeat, it'd better be to rescue me from this hellhole instead of playing games with me. Because that would mean you've achieved apparition or teleportation or whatever and that would make flying obsolete. 

Dan: good point. Or it could mean I myself I've learned to fly and then I could fly you to wherever the hell you needed to go to, like Superman and Lois Lane in the first Superman movie, with romantic music and shit. 

You: look up in the sky, there he is! Look, up in the skyyyyyy, JEWFRO-MAN!

Dan: shut up. Or I could just fly you home with me and you could hang out in the Grumpspace and then maybe go out for dinner or something. 

You: wouldn't be able to keep me in Cali forever, Superjew. I have a job and shit. And an apartment and stuff 

Dan: oh yeah. What is your job anyway?

You: it's also music-based, but way less exciting and glamorous than your life. 

Dan: really? What kind of music-based?

You: ooh! Flight schedule has been updated and were actually leaving earlier than anticipated!

Dan: yay! But also boo because that means I don't get to talk to you and entertain you as long. 

You: oh, like you haven't been texting me when the hell ever while I was trying to have some quality family time with my family. 

Dan: true. I just miss you. 

You: dude, I miss you too but...

Dan: I know, but...like, in the way when you learn there's this really awesome person that makes you go, where the hell have you been all my life and why haven't we been friends for decades now, and then they're gone after two hours and live way too far away from you. If that makes any sense. 

You: it took a couple of reads but...yeah. I still say you're being way too flattering and nice to me - more so than I deserve - but I know you'll just tell me that isn't true. 

Dan: but what about our metaphorical kids?!

You: dude, buy me dinner first. Also, I would make the worst mom ever. Sorry. 

Dan: I will one day. when our paths cross again. 

You: you seem awfully confident. Don't you mean if?

Dan: do you attend conventions? We can try to meet up at one of those. 

You: good point. 

Dan: it's a date?

You: plane is here? YAAAAAAAAAY 'Kermit flails'

Dan: you're adorable. 

You: shut up. I've got a plane to get on. I'll let you know when I'm home. 

Dan: well...bye bye, goodbye, I've tried. 

You: I'm so glad you like that song. 

Dan: I'm glad you introduced me. 

You: talk to you later?

Dan: talk to you later. 

 

Dan out his phone down, smiling. 

"Dude."

He looked up to see Ross, who'd pushed himself over to Dan in his office chair (well, Grumpspace chair) with his feet. 

"Weren't you and Arin supposed to start Grumping, like, two hours ago or something?" Ross asked. Dan glanced at the time on his phone. 

"Oh shit...fuck, yeah, we were..."

"I...think he and Barry started recording some Steam Train since you were...um...well, not BUSY but...yeah, that's it, actually. Not busy."

"Hey Ross, how about shut up?"

"What were you doing anyway?" Ross said, trying to wheel closer tomDsn and look at his phone. "Talking to someone? Playing Solitaire? Angry Birds? Flappy Bird? Angry Flappy Solitaire?"

"Ross, that game doesn't exist," Dan said, trying to push a flailing Ross away. "And...yeah, I guess I got caught up talking to someone."

"Ooooooooh who was it?"

"Nobody, just...someone I met at the airport on my way back here last week. She's stuck at the airport again."

"Ooooooh sheeeeee Dan has a girlfriend HEY EVERYONE DAN HAS--"

"ROSS SHUT UP," Dan said, trying to cover Ross's mouth. "She's not my girlfriend, I just ran into her - literally, actually - in line for airport security and we got to talking. She's a fan of the show."

"Bro, you're actually conversing with a fan like she was your friend?"

"She IS my friend, Ross. I wouldn't have known she was a fan if...why the hell am I telling you any of this anyway, why don't you get back to work yourself?"

"Well, why don't you get TO work?" Ross retorted. Dan glared. Ross rolled his eyes and pushed himself away from Dan with his feet. A bit too hard, as he failed and called out and cursed and went crashing somewhere out of Dan's sight line. Someone half heartedly called out "goddamn it Ross" as Ross insisted (weakly) that he was okay. 

God, Dan wished you could've been there to see that. 

Besides, if the new levels Ross had made for Mario Maker were as bad as he feared, then Ross absolutely deserved what he'd just done to himself. Because the ensuing Grump session was probably gonna be painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	4. Talking About Chest Hair, Talking About Crazy Cool Medallions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> phone call. No chest hair nor crazy cool medallions are discussed. Chapter title was chosen simply because Dan quoted it once in an episode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knocked this out on my lunch break. It's mostly dialogue. I'm more comfortable writing dialogue than things with very little dialogue. Oops.

You received a call a few afternoons later. 

"Hello?"

"Hey." It was Dan. "I got glasses."

"Yeah, I saw them on Instagram. Looking sharp."

"I dunno..."

"You sound so despondent. What's up?"

"Just...I dunno, I guess the need for new glasses makes me feel old. Or at least, more aware that I'm GETTING older."

"Bro, I've been wearing glasses since I was in third grade and I'm younger than you."

"Yeah well..."

"Also, weren't you wearing glasses in that ancient high school dance photo of yourself while some sassy girl was pinning a boutonnière to your lapel?"

"Hey, I resent the use of the word 'ancient'!"

"Sorry. Yellowing. Decrepit. Either of those better?"

"You are not a nice lady."

"Hey, no one is forcing you to keep talking to me. Besides, I said I LIKED your glasses. They look nice on you; the frames frame your face well. And framingly."

"Yeah, you did..."

"Also the Internet loves them. See: all the comments on the Instagram and the tumblr."

"Yeah, but..."

"No buts, mister. Or boobs. I know you like both."

"Oh my god...why did I call you again? And did I interrupt anything?"

"Because you were feeling old because of the glasses. And no, I'm on my lunch break."

"STOP REMINDING ME THAT IM OLD."

"Dan, you're not old. Maybe older than some of your coworkers, and the demographic of your show, but you are not OLD. And you certainly don't look old. General consensus on the web is that you're one handsome man."

"Oh, and where do you fall in that consensus?"

"Ignoring that, even when you DO get 'old', that's not a bad thing. There's are platitudes about that - something to do with good wine or stinky cheese and being better with age."

"Ew and ew."

"Indeed."

"Did you just call me stinky cheese?"

"NO. I don't even like cheese."

"Oh...but that means you like me, right?"

"You need to stop with the unnecessary flirting; we've only known each other and been conversing for a week. Not happening."

"I know, I know...just being silly, I guess."

"Well, did this help you feel better about your glasses? Or at least in a better place than you were before?"

"Dunno...but it did cheer me up to hear your voice again. And that's not flirting, promise, it's just the truth."

"Yeah well...fan moment, but I'm the same way about your voice. Beings me up when i'm down."

"Yeah, but it's a little different. You're able to hear my voice whenever the hell you want to. I don't have that luxury."

"Well...maybe you do and you don't know it yet."

"What does that mean?"

There was a knock on the door. You turned and called for whoever it was that you'd be just another second.

"Sorry, Dan, but my break's over. Talk to you again soon, texting or otherwise?"

"Sounds cool. Miss you. Bye."

"Bye."

You hung up, quickly packed up your lunch items, and tucked your sheet music underneath your arm. 

"Back to it, I guess..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	5. This Christmas sucks. You know what I want for Christmas? Not scared.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worst. Christmas. Ever. Pretty much. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS for panic attack and possible emotionally abusive language from family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of chapter comes from a holiday classic GGLP, "Silent Hill Shattered Memories".
> 
> Again, I know I just stated it, but TRIGGER WARNINGS for in depth descriptions of a panic attack, and possible emotionally abusive language from a family member. 
> 
> Inspired by true events. (Except, obviously, for the stuff regarding Dan.)

It hit you from out of nowhere. 

Seriously, no leadup to it. Not in the two-hour-long drive, not during the holiday niceties and greeting you shared with family you hadn't seen in over two years, not during Christmas dinner...not until during presents, and even afterward, you would recall that you still had no idea why it hit you. 

One minute, you were sitting on one of the couches in your grandmother's house, surrounded by aunts and uncles and cousins, watching everyone open presents, laughing, having a good time...

...and then you couldn't move. 

Nothing triggered it. Nothing anyone said. And no one noticed for the longest time. That you'd stopped moving, just stared at one of the fleur-de-lis on the black rug, arms wrapped around yourself, tightening...your brain screaming at itself, at your body, to move, to get up and get somewhere private before anyone noticed. 

And you just couldn't. 

Not even after they started asking you if you were okay. What was wrong. You couldn't even shake your head or reach up to wipe away the tears that had loosened, the snot that was beginning to run from your nose. 

You were only faintly aware of your younger cousins asking what was wrong with you, your aunts and uncles muttering to themselves, your grandma taking low and fierce to you -almost worse than yelling - about how you needed to get up and stop being ridiculous, there was nothing to be sad about, what the HELL was wrong with you. 

You were ruining Christmas. You knew it. She didn't need to say it (though she did, several times, to you and to everyone else, apologizing for your hysterics).

You quietly stood, arms still locked around yourself, and brushed slowly past relatives to the room where your grandmother had said you'd spend the night. Even though the tears were already falling, you managed to hold the sobs back until you'd closed and locked the door. 

And they came hard. Jagged. Painful. Because your chest was still tight and you couldn't breathe, you were ruining Christmas and you couldn't goddamn breathe and all you wanted was to be home, anywhere but here...

You were texting him before you were even fully aware of what you were doing - you were sitting on the edge of the bed and your scrolled to his name and hit Message. Shaky thumbs meant too many typos but you finally got a message to him. 

"Please help. Panic attack. Can't breathe. In hell. Ruining Christmas. I'm sorry.."

You almost threw your phone away from you as you fell to your side and curled up. Every muscle in your body hurt but you couldn't untense them. Just coil further into yourself as you sobbed and wheezed. It hurt so much and all you wanted was to breathe. Just fucking breathe. 

From the foot of the bed, the screen lit up. You managed to unwind one arm and reach for the device. Messaging before calling. 

"Please don't be sorry. Please tell me what I can do to help."

Only thing that came to mind. Only thing that had helped you in your lowest lows before you'd actually met him. 

"Sing. Skyhill NSP Northern Hues Hebrew just sing please I'm so sorry you're probably busy but please I need you to sing and I don't have my music so I have to bother you and I'm sorry I'm ruining you Christmas and my Christmas I'm ruining everything"

You sobbed harder as you hit Send. Coughed. Choked. Fucking shit fuck you just wanted to fucking breathe. 

The Call notification was instantaneous. 

You slid your thumb across the Unlock button and one of your tears to answer the phone. You covered your mouth and tried not to cry directly into the speaker of the phone. It just made it harder for you to breathe but...

Dan didn't even say Hello. He just began to sing. Quiet. Clear. With as much emotion as though he were singing any rock ballad he treasured, but...calming. Even more so than when you'd listened to his music. 

You didn't know how long he sang, not exactly. But it wasn't anything you'd ever heard him sing before. From the few words you could catch, it was Hebrew. From his bar mitzvah? Some sort of lullaby or hymn? You didn't know. And he didn't waver when your hyperventilating and gasping grew beyond your control - just raised the dynamic to his voice enough to remind you he was there.

Eventually though, gradually, your body began to relax. Your mind stopped hyperbolizing and overloading. Your gasps lessened to quick breaths, which eventually slowed. And soon - finally - calm. 

Your body and your mind and your emotional health were all exhausted. And Dan was still there, still singing. 

"Thank you," you panted, still trying to control your breathing to calmness, closing your eyes, shedding a few stray tears. "Sleep..." You couldn't form the full sentence "I'm going to go to sleep now."

"Want me to keep singing til you get to sleep?" he asked.

"Mmm-mmm," you hummed. No, Dan, you don't have to, you've done enough, more than enough, and you really didn't have to. 

"Call me tomorrow?" he asked - almost pleaded, you thought, you didn't know, you were so tired now. "Or at least text? Let me know you're okay?"

"Mmm-hmm..." Yes. Promise. 

You weren't sure if you imagined him saying it or not as you drifted off to a heavy, exhausted, wrecked sleep...but you thought he'd said one last thing before hanging up:

"I wish I could've been there for you. I wish I were there for you right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated. Also, sorry for bringing your Christmas down.


	6. There's got to be a morning after...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone call day after panic attack. All dialogue. 
> 
> Title comes from a song from the movie The Poseidon Adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should've gotten this out sooner. Again, very heavy on the dialogue as I have little confidence in anything else. 
> 
> The response to this story so far has overwhelmed me a bit. I didn't really expect to see people like it so much. Thank you to all my readers so far. It means more than you know, to read all of your kindness.

“Hello?”

“Hi Dan…it’s me.”

“Hey…you okay?”

“Sorry I didn’t call sooner. Christmas and all. Then I had to drive home.”

“No no, that’s fine, I totally understand. I’m just happy to hear from you.”

“I know…I know I must have freaked you out and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been there. I’ve known a lot of people who have been there.”

“…thank you. You didn’t have to stay on the phone with me for as long as you did…but you did and…I don’t really know how to put it into words. Like, no words to express how grateful I am for that…”

“Like I said, I’ve been there. Been there when there wasn’t anyone for me at that time…or anyone supportive. I didn’t want that to happen to you.”

“Again…thank you.”

“…how are you feeling?”

“Anxiety-wise, better. In general…I ache all over, from being so tense for so long…and my head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls…I’ve never been hung over, but I imagine this is what it feels like.”

“Ouch…I’m sorry.”

“And then there’s just a general exhaustion from having to act all up and normal around the family. Like, everyone trying to ignore the giant white panicky irrational elephant in the room. Everyone pretending last night never happened.”

“I’m sorry…also I’m sorry I don’t have anything to say to all of this than I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…Never really got along that much with that part of the family anyway, but…they always wanted me to visit for the holidays while I’ve lived here…probably not anymore though.”

“Well, if not, remind me to invite you to the Grumpspace for next Christmas, Thanksgiving, Arbor Day, whatever.”

“Preeeeeeetty sure my parents still have first dibs to me come holidays. Granted, it didn’t work out this year, but…well, whatever.”

“Well, then Hanukkah or something. Need I remind you that Granny makes the best brisket ever?”

“Better than that brisket you had at the airport the day you met me? You know, the one you wanted to marry, and then you said you wanted to marry me for introducing you to?”

“…never speak of that brisket to Granny. She will never forgive me for speaking such sacrilege against her cooking.”

“No worries. Mostly because she doesn’t know I exist. I watched that video of your interview with her on the GrumpOut channel though and she seems like a really awesome person.”

“She is. She’s the best grandma ever. …also hey. You remembered word for word what I said to you about the brisket that day!”

“Well, one never forgets their first marriage proposal…by the way, the answer is still no.”

“But darliiiiiiiiiiiing, the briskeeeeeeeeeet…you’ve broken my heart quite thoroughly.”

“Meh. Write a song about it.”

“It’ll be called Granny’s Brisket and it’ll be an homage to Song of the Dumped.”

“You’ve listened to more Ben Folds?!”

“Like, FIVE more Ben Folds.”

“I see what you did there. …rather, I hear what you did there.”

“You’ve got me addicted, sweetheart.”

“Stop with the pet names and such, please.”

“Aw, but pumpkiiiiiiiiiiin...”

“No, spaghetti squash.”

“…did you just called me a spaghetti squash?”

“From one vegetable to another.”

“I’m gonna start calling people that. I’m gonna start calling ROSS that.”

“Oh, please do, and please record it on one of the episodes you’re both on.”

“Speaking of episodes, new Mario Maker ones are going up on the channel soon. Keep your ears out for a mention of a certain prickly-do-calling-Pokeys-person…”

“That made little to no sense but I think I get the gist of it.”

“Sweet!”

“And hey, if Ross creates more levels, THAT’S when you can call him a spaghetti squash.”

“Man, wait till you hear some of the profanely colorful things Arin came up with to say about Ross when we were playing.”

“I’m prepping my gut now for the busting of laughter that will probably ensue.”

“Yaaaaaay so much more preferable to panic attacks!”

“I know, right?”

“…I’m glad you’re feeling better. I mean, I know you’re not in other regards, but…”

“I know what you mean. And thank you again. Forever. Many many times.”

“Belated Merry Christmas.”

“Belated Merry Christmas to you too. And very belated Happy Hanukkah. “

“Thank you. …well…Ross is glaring at me with his stupid face that’s so stupid, which means I actually have to get back to work now.”

“Dude, you should’ve told me I called you at work, I could’ve called you back later!”

“Nah, it’s cool, I told everyone it was an emergency.”

“…but it wasn’t.”

“To me, it was. Wanted to make sure you were okay. And safe.”

“Well…yes, I am. And I am. I’ll let you get back to work now though.”

“Talk to you later?”

“Yes, if you must be so insistent.”

“I am. Bye.”

“Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	7. Tense Like Whoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short phone conversation. Reader is stressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self indulgence on my part because work this week has had me stressed and tense like whoa and I just want to imagine some Dan comfort. 
> 
> Also surprise surprise, more only dialogue on my part.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, it's Dan."

"Yeah, Dan. I know. Your name reads in my phone,"

"Really, as what?"

"Dan."

"Yeah?"

"...no, that's how I have you listed in my phone."

"Oh. ...well, that's not very fun."

"I'm not a very fun person right now."

"But really? Just Dan? No Sexbang or Daniel Avidaniel? Not even Leigh?"

"What? I'm guessing you have me listed as Prickly-do or some such."

"I will once this conversation is over!"

"Oh god..."

"...you okay? You sound tired."

"Yeah...just work. Long week. End of year hecticness and such. Lots that needs to get done before tomorrow and very little time in which to get it all done."

"And yet you're still of sound enough mind to use correct grammar."

"How do you know that? I thought you said you were a man of not-grammar-good?"

"How the fuck do you remember random little things like that from videos?"

"My brain is a fount for useless shit."

"Mine too."

"..."

"Was that a yawn?"

"Maybe."

"..."

"...did I make you yawn?"

"Maybe."

"Sorry...like I said, long work week."

"Dude, if we were in the same area, I would absolutely come over and cuddle the shit outta you until you fell asleep."

"But you're all skinny and bony, that would be painful."

"Do not underestimate my great cuddling skills."

"Ah yes. How could I have forgotten? That's why you're called Dan Cuddlebug."

"Ha. Ha."

"Soft aesthetic Ninja Sex Party. Or something. I don't know, I'm very tired. And joking aside...yeah cuddling sounds nice."

"Told you."

"Cuddling and a horror movie."

"Okay, it got less nice."

"What? Some days when I'm tired, all I want is a cuddlebug and a movie full of horrible people dying in very bloody ways."

"GAAH, no, don't want."

"Aw, come on...I would cuddle you and protect you from all the scary."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely. ...either that or choose a psychological horror film as opposed to a gory one."

"That would still require some cuddling that would need to be done on your part."

"Do you really scare that easy?"

"What, you don't?"

"No, not at most horror or slasher films. Because I know they're fake. I know shit like that would never actually happen. Moreover, I know there's very little chance of that kind of shit happening to me specifically and egotistically."

"...but the blood and what with the gore and such."

"I shall shield you from it, superjewish danny cuddlebug. But only if you cuddle me first and I get all unwound from work."

"Sounds like a plan."

"...you know how you're always telling me you miss me?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm starting to miss you a little, too. All this cuddling sounds really fucking nice and...it kinda sucks knowing it isn't gonna happen."

"It will just...not tonight. But in the future. And hopefully more than once."

"...that better not be an innuendo for something else."

"No! I may be Danny Sexbang, but i respect my friends. Cuddling would not lead to anything more unless you wanted it to."

"You know, what with the fake marriage proposals and the airport cliches and all this cuddling we've been talking about, I'm honestly not sure with you..."

"Maybe there's an idea of an us that I like. A small one. But you're right. You've been right. Not now. But maybe in the future. Once we know each other better. Maybe that idea of us might grow with time."

"For you, anyway. May take me a little longer than that."

"That's okay. I just want to be friends with you for a really long time, no matter what else happens, no matter what other feelings develop."

"Yeah, because...two weeks or such is a bit too fast. I was starting to get concerned that this phone call would end in a declaration of love."

"Or a Delcaration of Independence?"

"Only if pilfered by Nicolas Cage."

"YES. God Dan, that will be our cuddle movie night. You. Me. National Treasure. Hell yeah."

"Hell yeah."

"..."

"Another yawn?"

"Yeah...just more and more...throat hurts too, has all day."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah. Fuck...probably coming down with something. That's gonna make work fun tomorrow..."

"...you work with your voice?"

"Yeah. Choirs, mostly. More rehearsal tomorrow...here's hoping I have the voice for it."

"Cuddle night will be postponed to when you feel better and work is not so much of a soulsuck."

"Indeed. ...thanks for calling. And sorry for the surliness at the beginning."

"It's okay. You get some sleep. I'll call again another time?"

"Sure."

"Miss you. Bye."

"Bye Dan. ...miss you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated. I'll try to have a New Years chapter out within the next day or two, provided work hasn't driven me into a coma from exhaustion.


	8. New Year's Fistbump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Middle-of-the-night phone calls and early morning instagrams...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work coma hasn't kicked in yet so i'ma knock this holiday-related chapter out while I can. 
> 
> Also holy shit some stuff that isn't just dialogue :D

Whatever dream you were having, a phone was ringing...

...and then you realized. It wasn't your dream. It actually was your phone. 

You groaned and opened your eyes. The duller bleary glow of the numbers on your clock were outshone by the glare of your phone, alight with alert. Another groan from you. 

Whoever it was was on your shit list, you thought as you reached for the infernal device. 

Dan. 

Groan. But happy groan. 

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yes, and that's why I'm calling! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

You pulled the phone away from your ear as he cheered. 

"Jesus fuck Dan not so loud."

"...wait...who are you and what have you done to my Prickly-do?"

"Prickly-fuck-you, it's me you dipshit."

"Yikes...you're surly when you're sick."

"I'm surly when someone calls me in the middle of the night while I'm trying to sleep off the sick," you managed to finish saying before pulling the phone away again, this time so you didn't deafen Dan with your coughing fit. 

"I'm sorry..." He said in a small voice. "But new year?"

"It's midnight for you and beyond that for me. Time zone differences, remember?"

"Oh. Right. ...i'ma stupid."

"No you're not."

"So...how's your 2016 so far?"

"Lovely until some PRICK...ly-do decided to wake me up from a NyQuil-induced coma."

"I'm sorry again for ever. I deserved that."

You had to pull the phone away to cough some more, this time actually hacking up some phlegm from the back of your throat. You reached for a tissue. 

"I take it this means no New Years kiss?" Dan asked with false innocence. 

"Dude, I am a fountain of snot right now," you rasped, pausing to spit out a wad of something that was most likely a shade of green that was not meant to be produced by the human body.

"Sexy. I mean, your voice has got that sultry smoker's rasp thing going on," Dan reasoned. 

"Oh yeah. Because Patty and Selma are the sexiest Simpsons characters."

"Oh...FUCK yeah..."

"Dude, I'm hanging up if you do that again."

"Aw...but kiss!"

"No, Dan. I'm all germy and sick and gross."

"Well...maybe that's my kink!"

"...fucking really?"

"Ookay, yeah, even I don't buy that one."

"Pleeeeeease let the sickie go back to sleep."

Another coughing fit. Followed by a sneeze. 

"I feel bad now..."

"No, please don't," you assured him. "You didn't know. And it is a holiday. I'm just being a grumpy Gertrude."

"I know but..." Dan sighed. "I still do."

"Look...New Years Fistbump. Deal?" 

You could hear the smile. 

"Deal."

You smiled and gently tapped your knuckles to the phone. 

"Don't bump the screen, that'll hang up," you told him. 

"I thought you WANTED to hang up," Dan reminded you. 

"Oh yeah..."

"I'll let you go now...I hope you get better really really soon and I wish I could be there to make you matzoh ball soup."

"Do you even know how to make matzoh ball soup?"

"I wish Granny Sexbang could be there to make you matzoh ball soup."

You laughed...a bad idea, as you coughed more than laughed. 

"Get some good sleep," Dan said, soft, soothing, a songless lullaby. "Happy new year."

"Happy new year."

He hung up before you did. You smiled to yourself and burrowed yourself deeper into your covers, closing your eyes and waiting for more sleep to wash over you. 

 

The next morning, you were scrolling through Instagram over a steeping cup of peppermint tea, pausing at one with a familiar mass of hair. 

"New Years kisses are soooooooooo last year. New Years fistbumps are where it's at. :) "#happynewyear"

Dan smiled at the camera from the top. The bottom of the picture was covered by his knuckles, curled into a fist. 

You typed:

"Right back at you Superjew 'Fistbump' :)"

He didn't know you had an Instagram. And he had over 500 other comments. But maybe he'd know it was you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated. Enjoy the last of your 2015. And a happy 2016 to you all.


	9. Bro...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...bro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro. Broseph. Dudebro. 
> 
> ...I have no fucking idea. I just saw that new pic on the NSP Instagram and that's the only word that comes to mind when I look at that picture.

"Dan...bro...BRO..."

"Yyyyyyyyyyes?"

"Bro you are such a nerd for sports bro..."

"I take it you've been on the instamagrams lately?"

"Indeed I have, bro formerly known as Dan."

"What? I'm proud of my Giants swag!"

"I know bro. It's just so fucking cute. You little fucking nerd bro."

"Okay, what is with you and all the bro-calling-of-me today?"

"I think it's the DayQuil my broski."

"Still sick?"

"you fucking know it."

"You sound a lot better though."

"Thanks. And yeah. Still tired as fuck though."

"Does it make choir stuff hard?"

"Enh. Director knows. I sing what I can but...like, there are only so many notes I can hit, so mostly I take notes and drink a shitload of tea. Sometimes fill in on the piano."

"You play piano?"

"When needed."

"I learn something new about you every day."

"Indeed you do, bromide powders."

"Bromide powders?"

"Been reading Agatha Christie recently. There's a book of hers where bromide powders come into play and make an otherwise harmless tonic fatal."

"So...you're saying I'm poison?"

"No, I'm calling you bro again and telling you to fucking read some fucking Agatha Christie, you Giants-loving plebeian."

"Um...thanks? Or not?"

"Ignore me, I'm loopy on the meds and shit."

"Well, when you get better, I wanna know more about your choir goings-on and shit. Like, link me to some videos or sound files or something."

"Well, we're just starting up again now after Christmas season so it'll be a while before we have anything of real...quality or doneness, I guess."

"Any past stuff?"

"Maybe."

"You are intending to remain as mysterious to me as possible, aren't you?"

"No, I promise. I just want the first thing you hear from a thing I'm in to be really good. Because you are a formidable musician to be reckoned with?"

"Oh yeah, because NSP is RIGHT up there with Handel and shit."

"Okay, two VASTLY different genres, first of all. And secondly, I mean Skyhill and Northern Hues and that fucking AWESOME cover of The Last Unicorn. You can SING. And I'm not just saying that because I'm a fan of yours, I'm saying that as one musician to another. As someone who studied music for a very several number of years. You are talented. And...I guess I'm a little afraid you won't think the same if I send you something that's not as polished as it could be."

"...I'm not really sure what to say to that."

"I know. That was a lot of insecurity on my part. But...promise me that whatever I do send to you, you be completely honest. Don't just tell me what you think I want to hear. If it sucks, tell me it sucks."

"I'm sure it won't suck. And I'm not as...I guess, inclined as you? More classical stuff isn't really my bag, so who knows, if I don't like it, it might be because that style just isn't me, but...I will try. I promise."

"Thank you. Even if it's just pointing out if we're pitchy in places, flat, sharp, whatever."

"Yes, that I can at least do."

"I'm sure you'll be a better music critic than you think. Brozart."

"You are..."

"Exactly."

"No, more like, so many adjectives for you, but so many I know you'll insist you don't deserve to be called."

"Indeedily-do, Bropin. Brohms. Brokovsky."

"Okay, that last one wasn't even close."

"Yeah. I'll stop haranguing you now. We've gotten way offtopic from you being a massive sports nerd."

"indeeed we have. Hope you feel even more betterer soon."

"And that the DayQuil wears off?"

"Hell no, you're fucking adorable like this."

"You think I'm fucking adorable all the time."

"Yeah I do."

"Even though you've only seen me once."

"Your voice is adorable."

"Nerd. Sports nerd."

"Hanging up now."

"Okay. Bye, nerd."

"Bye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	10. Choir and Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Dan in this chapter. But we do meet another Grump...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been thinking about keeping this fic in real time? Like, day to day, no huge leaps in time, because I want holiday chapters to be special and not...unstuck in time, for lack of a better phrase. 
> 
> Which means this will be a very Very VERY slow burn, for those who just want me to get to the snuggling and such. But I have reasons for keeping it slow. Not all has been revealed yet. 
> 
> Thank you to those who read and comment and such. The feedback has been wonderful.

You were jotting down a last few notes in your music as Nora – your choir director – dismissed everyone and chairs shuffled around you. As you did, Nora approached you. She may have been the director, but she was also one of your nearest and dearest friends. The two of you had studied music together in college and beyond.

“Happy to hear your voice again,” she said. You smiled and looked up at her.

“You mean, with the sopranos?” you said.

“Yes. Although you were not an awful tenor.”

“Thank you, Nora.”

“I actually wanted to talk to you about a few things,” she said, gesturing towards her music stand.

“Sure, Nora,” you said, standing as you closed your choir folder. “Section leader duties or…?”

“Actually, outside of this choir,” Nora said as she searched for a couple of fliers. “You know the after-school women’s ensemble at the high school where I teach.”

“Yeah, the one that Casey directs,” you said.

“Well…Casey’s gone on maternity leave.”

“I…thought she wasn’t due for another three months,” you said, confused.

“Well, her doctor’s put her on bedrest,” Nora explained, “so she’s not able to direct the choir this semester. And I’ve got enough on my plate as it is. So I was wondering if you would like to direct in her place.”

You paused, unsure of what to say.

“I know it sounds like a big commitment, but it really isn’t,” Nora went on, handing you some paperwork. “One rehearsal a week, with a concert in the spring, with the school choirs. And again, nothing big – three or four songs. You would be reimbursed for your services. Doesn’t pay a lot, but…”

“Is it okay if I think about it?” you asked. “Just for the night?” Nora nodded.

“The other thing is…Casey was slated to sing in the production of Britten’s War Requiem that’s happening at the concert hall later this month,” Nora began.

“Nora, you can’t be serious, there’s no way—”

“I would not be asking you if I didn’t think you could sing it,” Nora insisted. “They’re frantic for a female soloist.”

“I know, but it’s BRITTEN,” you said. “And I’ve just gotten my voice back.”

“Well, you have a bit more time to think about this one,” Nora said. Give it a week. But they’d like to start dress rehearsals by the 15th for the performances the last weekend of January.”

“I’ll have to look at my schedule…and the score…and probably weep openly over it…” you muttered.

“You really give yourself too little credit,” Nora said, reaching out to touch your shoulder.

“You give me too MUCH credit, more like.”

“Go home and drink more tea. I’ll talk to you later.”

“See you later, Nora.”

As you walked out of the rehearsal space and into the main entrance, you took out your phone.

A missed call from Dan. While you’d been in rehearsal.

You set your music down and dialed his number back. One ring…two rings…half of a ring and—

“Hello?”

That did not sound like…

“…Dan?”

“No…this is Brian.”

Wecht. Ninja Brian. Ah.

“And…you have Dan’s phone?”

“He’s Grumping right now so I kidnapped his phone,” Brian said.

“Ah…”

“And you are…”

“A friend of Dan’s.”

“Obviously,” Brian snarked, though not unkindly. “But your name? I mean, he has you listed in here as ‘Prickly-Do’ for whatever reason.”

“That is a long story that will probably be explained in a later Grump episode,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“Interesting.”

“Well…um…I’d say sorry I called or bothered you but…in my defense, I didn’t know Dan wasn’t going to pick up the phone.”

“Enh, no problem,” Brian said. “I like to answer his phone sometimes and mess with his friends.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” you said.

“Ah, so you’re a fan?” Brian said. “And Dan actually gave you his number?”

“Again…long story…but yes…been a fan for a few years now, of both you AND him.”

“Thanks.”

“Actually…I have a question,” you said, an idea hitting you. “For you, I mean, and in…well, a professional sense.”

“Did you just put me and professional in the same sentence?” Brian said.

“Yes, Mr. Ph.D.,” you said. “A music-related business-y question.”

“I’m intrigued yet suspicious. Go on.”

“Well, I’m also in a music-based career…very different from you and Dan, mostly choirs. And I’ve recently been slated to direct an after-school choir for the school semester.”

“Cool. But what does this have to do with me?”

“I was wondering if you still had the keyboard music and the chords for your cover of ‘The Last Unicorn’.”

“…yeah, I think I do, somewhere.”

“I’ve listened to it a lot in the past, and – please forgive me – but I think with a little tweaking, maybe a key change, a resolution at the end, it could make for a really good SSAA choral piece.”

“Interesting.”

“If I gave you my email address, my work one, would you be able to send me the scores you have? I promise, you would be given credit in the programs, and I’d send you a recording of the finished product.”

“…yeah, why not.”

“Thank you so much,” you said, smiling.

“And if you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Again, thank you.”

“No problem. Though I am a little offended you didn’t ask for an NSP song.”

“If I did, I would be fired.”

“Good point.”

“Oh, and Brian? …please don’t tell Dan about this. I kind of want to surprise him with it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	11. Mama's Offspring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a certain picture posted on the NSP Instagram today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All dialogue. Little plot. Per usual.

"Hello?"

"I'll have you know, sir, that my heart has melted from cute thanks to that picture."

"You need to tell me your Instagram."

"You need to figure out what it is."

"Tease."

"Hardly. But seriously, your mom is adorable and clearly, said adorable runs in the family."

"Thank you and I will pass word along to Doobles."

"I still can't believe you call your mom Doobles. You've got her listed in your phone as Doobles, don't you?"

"She's cool with it!"

"I have no doubt. It's just a...an offspring thing with me, I guess. I just call my mom Mom."

"Because you're boring?"

"...how am I younger than you?"

"Your parents didn't get it on until about ten years after mine did?"

"...never. Make me think. About my parents copulating. Ever. Again."

"No problem. I'll leave that up to Brian."

"Ooooooof course you will."

"Speaking of, sorry if he bugged you the other day."

"Huh?"

"Well, I saw that I had a call with you the other day that I don't remember. And Brian asked me who the fuck was Prickly-Do,, and that it was fun giving her hell and whatnot."

"Oh...right, I was returning your call that you tried to make when I was in choir rehearsal."

"I need to start remembering when your rehearsals are so that way I don't interrupt again."

"You didn't interrupt; I keep my phone on silent."

"Oh, good. I was afraid that in the middle of Rachmaninoff or whatever, all of a sudden...whatever your ringtone is and then your director giving you the death glare."

"No, Nora's pretty chill with that sort of thing."

"Nora?"

"Friend from school. She directs this particular choir."

"You're in more than one?"

"Sometimes. It's an ever shifting cycle or whatever."

"And I still have yet to hear your dulcet tones."

"You're hearing them right now."

"I mean your dulcet SINGING tones."

"True. But like I said..."

"I know, I know."

"God, you sound so despondent."

"I'm just curious!"

"Tell you what. I'll think about sending you some past choir stuff. From school and shit. I have had solos in oratorios and concerts before but...we're not to that stage yet in our friendship."

"Hooray, consideration!"

"You're such a dork."

"thank you!"

"Oh my god..."

"Well, based on the glare Arin's giving me, it's time to get back to work."

"okay. You and your mom are still adorable as fuck."

"Thank you. You're adorable too."

"Damn straight. Have fun Grumping, and have a good night."

"Good night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	12. So Much Ambiguity...I think...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nora becomes a supporting character and not just a one off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best I could do during downtime at work. more story is slowly writing itself in my head and I seem to be definitely in this for the long haul...here's hoping I don't bore everyone in that time...

Nora had come over for the night with stacks and stacks of SSAA sheet music. The both of you sat cross-legged on your futon, leafing through the selections.

“How about this one?” she asked you, holding the music out to you. You read the title.

“Enh…I dunno about Eric Whitacre,” you said. “For high schoolers?”

“…you’re right. I mean, I’m sure they’re good, but…yeah, Whitacre is college level at least.”

“Yeah. Toss it in the no pile.”

The no pile was significantly larger than the maybe pile; the yes pile was nonexistent. Well, sort of. You were still working on “The Last Unicorn” on your laptop.

“How long have we been at this?” Nora groaned, rubbing her eyes.

“Too long,” you said, not looking up at her.

“What time is it anyway?”

“You can check my phone,” you said, pointing towards the kitchen and bar area of your tiny apartment. “Should be on a little ledge next to the barstools.”

Nora stood and tiptoed her way around the music cluttering the floor. You closed the music to a Mendelssohn piece and threw it in the general direction of the no pile.

“Um…lady…” Nora said.

“I know, I know, sorry I forgot to buy wine, if I’d known you were coming, I would’ve,” you sighed, not looking up at her.

“No, not that. Care to tell me who Dan is?”

You froze, but hoped said freezing wasn’t apparent.

“Huh?” you asked. Nora walked over to you, smirk on her face, holding your phone out.

“Dan? Left a call for you? Lady, do you have a boyfriend that I am unaware of?”

Ugh. You knew she was gonna do this if she found out.

“No,” you said patiently. “Dan is a friend, albeit a new one.”

“Jeez, lady, your call history!” Nora said, thumb sliding up your phone screen in a scrolling-type fashion.

“Nora, cut it out, please.”

“You sure you’re just friends? I mean, WE’RE friends, and I don’t call you this much.”

“That’s because we see each other on a more regular basis. In that you’re my choir director,” you reminded her.

“Oh, so it’s a long-distance thing?” Nora teased.

“Need I remind you, you’re the one with friends in Norway,” you said, pointing the corner of sheet music accusingly at her, as best as sheet music can look accusing. “And yes, Dan lives in a different state. But NO. We’re just friends. We just talk a lot.”

“You suuuuuuuuuure?”

“Nora, I will quit the War Requiem if you keep this up.”

“Would you?”

“Yeah, honestly I would, Britten’s hard, yo.”

“But still, a new someone in your life! How did you meet?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes as Nora sat cross-legged on the futon again, bouncing up and down like the two of you were in high school again.

“In line for security at the airport,” you said. “He ran into me. Literally.”

“And?”

“…and what? He apologized, we got to talking, exchanged numbers, that was that.”

“…I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything.”

“That’s because you probably wouldn’t understand it completely if I did.”

“Wait…Dan?” Nora repeated, eyes lighting up along with the metaphorical lightbulb over her head. “Like, that video game guy, Dan? The one with the samurai band?”

“Yes, that Dan,” you said, not bothering to correct her.

“I THOUGHT that name sounded familiar!” Nora squealed, reaching over all the sheet music to hug you, knocking pages to the ground. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Nora, PLEASE calm down,” you said with an exasperated laugh, hugging the woman back.

“What, isn’t this, like, your dream come true?” Nora asked, pulling away. “I mean, if Natalie Dormer or Naveen Andrews befriended me, I’d be singing the highest high notes I could hit with happiness!”

“I mean, yeah, but…that’s why it’s also kinda scary for me,” you said. “I mean…it’s all too much like a fanfiction, isn’t it? Make friends with the…sort-of celebrity you irrationally have a kind-of crush on and that’ll lead to something more in, like, twelve days? It’s too convenient.”

“Dude, you know I don’t read fanfic, so…but sure, I guess I can see where you’re coming from.”

“I mean…he’s really nice, though,” you said, allowing yourself to gush a little bit. “And really super funny. And he seems to actually really give a care about me, like, as a person.” You smiled and laughed a little to yourself. “He even flirts sometimes, in the most blatant, I’m-not-actually-flirting-with-you ways.”

“I know you say there’s nothing there, but…” Nora said, sighing dreamily, “you’re absolutely smitten, it seems.”

“Shut up, I am not,” you insisted. “Well…maybe a little. But in a platonic sense. Like, he even said it himself. Sort of in the ‘where has this person been all my life’ sense. You know when you make a connection to someone in that way? Not in a romantic sense, but…in that way where you KNOW you’re gonna be friends with this person forever, no matter what, and you want them in your life always?”

“I felt and feel that with you, my dear,” Nora sighed dramatically, swooning right off the futon. “OUCH.”

“You deserved that,” you laughed.

“Good thing you got that new rug,” Nora said, rubbing the hip which had made contact with the floor. “It’s mildly more plush than your old one."

“Yeah. Plus, it really ties the room together.”

“Oh, The Big Lebowski…that movie was average at best,’ Nora said.

“Agreed,” you said, offering her your hand. She took it and pulled herself up.

“But anyway,” she said, “I’m still happy for you. Not in the teasing sense anymore, I promise. But…yeah, that kind of connection really can be something.”

“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed, smiling again.

“Still…if the suggestion of romance came along…?” Nora needled. “I mean, I know that’s not really your bag, but…”

“…I really don’t know,” you said. “Honestly, I don’t. I mean…it’s really too soon to tell. Too soon for me to even consider that. Him, I don’t known timely what he thinks. I know he flirts and jokes, but…if he becomes serious, he’ll need to be patient, if so. And really understanding. And okay with…boundaries. …and I would have to know for sure I could absolutely trust him. I don’t want him to be another…”

“He won’t be,” Nora assured you, cutting your thought off so you didn’t have to say more. “No one is at such a level of scum. It’s impossible.”

“Yeah, well…what I thought at THAT time too, but—”

“But that was different,” Nora insisted. “Dan won’t do that. And if he does, I’ll deal with him.” She smirked.

“Nora, you will do no such thing,” you said, picking up a stack of sheet music. “What you ARE going to do is help me continue to sort through all of this music you’ve foisted upon me.”

“You mind if I make a cup of tea first?” Nora asked, stretching and standing.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, opening a new song, something Russian. “You know where everything is?” Nora nodded. The two of you smiled, and she went off to the kitchen.And as you leafed through more music, in the background you heard the faucet turning on and off, the microwave opening and shutting, beeps of buttons, and finally whirring to life.

What you weren’t aware of was Nora searching through your phone again, taking her own phone out, and entering some info into her own phone. She’d done it all quick as a flash, too, just in time for the microwave to beep that tea was ready. Well, not so much ready as hot enough to steep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	13. Super Mario Maker: Prickly-Do Little Flab Biscuit - PART 47 - Game Grumps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transcript of the audio of a new episode of Super Mario Maker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's been in my head for a while. Also, Arin is officially in the fic.

HEY I'M GRUMP

I'M NOT SO GRUUUUUMP

AAAAAAAAAND WEEEEEEE'RE THE GAME GRUMPS

...

"Hello!"

"Oh fuck..."

"Welcome back to Super Mario Maker."

"Yeah, otherwise known as Ross made more levels to torture us."

"Well, not just us, Dan, more like..."

"Everyone ever except maybe for Holly?"

"Yeah. Well anyway--"

"ANYWAY, this one is called...what, Arin?"

"We--hold on, you impatient fucker, let me pull up the menu."

"Fine, sorry sorry...am I playing this one or you?"

"Uh...yes."

"Promising."

"Well, knowing Ross, we may need to switch off for the sake of our sanities..."

"Yeah, one of us play and the other throttles him with a corkscrew."

"Ouch. Harsh, Dan."

"Well, given his levels, only fair."

"Yeah, well, anyway, I'll start out, how does that sound?"

"It sounds delightful."

"Good!"

"It doesn't sound delightful."

"Well, you haven't seen the title of the level, my friend."

"No I have not. What is it?"

"I--well, CLEARLY, Ross is a fan of the Super Mario Sunshine series..."

"Clearly?"

"Because this level is called 'Pokey Little Flab Biscuit'."

"Really, Arin? You sure he's just not overly familiar with our tens of hundreds of recurring jokes?"

"Um, NAH. I think he remembered that instance from that playthrough that happened...what, seventeen years ago?"

"Yeah, that sounds right."

"Um--"

"When you were a small child."

"Yeah, and you were a...slightly younger man."

"ARIN YOUR WORDS ARE HURTFUL."

"You know what's gonna hurt more, Dan?"

"What?"

"The clear rate."

"Oh really?"

"For this level."

"What is it?"

"It's--um, it's really quite..."

"Your hesitance speaks volumes, asshole."

"No, it's just...I think this is unprecedented."

"You mean like how Obama will be in 2017?"

"...Dan...come on..."

"Unpresidented?"

"Dan..."

"JESUS Arin, top giving me the death stare!"

"Well, stop making Ross-levels of puns and maybe..."

"Ouch. More hurtful words."

"Well--"

"I would argue that i'm at least...a modicum more funny than Ross."

"How much of a modicum?"

"Um--"

"Probably more than the clear rate for the level, right?"

"Oh, yeah, we got off topic from that."

"Yeah, we did, Dan. Thanks to your awful as fuck pun."

"Arin, let's just...I'm sorry okay, can we move on to Ross's sadism?"

"Clear rate's less than one percent, dude..."

"...COME ON, Ross..."

"Yeah, this...this one's gonna hurt."

"Oh, GOD..."

"I'll--I'll start..."

"Thanks, man."

"uh--"

"And godspeed."

"THanks--"

"I'll call Suzy. Let her know her husband broke today."

"Thanks--thanks. You're a real friend, Dan."

"Just...start the level, douche bag."

"Okay, okay, look, i'm clicking start."

"Oh god...Ross..."

"Are you--"

"ROSS"

"WHAT TH--INSTANT! INSTANT DEATH!"

"ROOOOOOOOOOSS!!"

"There's NO W--oh, jesus Christ..."

"...and RIGHT AGAIN WITH THE--JESUS"

"I'm drowning in Pokeys!"

"Drowning in Prickly-Dos!"

"What the f--prickly-dos?"

"Yeah!"

"Did y--godDAMN it Ross!"

"Prickly-dos!"

"You're seriously saying 'prickly-dos'?"

"No, I'm EXCITEDLY saying 'prickly-dos'."

"Yeah but OH MY GOD FUCKING SHIT DAMN IT BALLS"

"I know right?"

"JESUS CRIMINY"

"Is there ANY sort of learning curve to this or...?"

"I don't--well, um..."

"Yeah, see, you're getting it!"

"God"

"You just have to jump on the prickly-dos!"

"Okay, seriously Dan? Explain this."

"Yeah--"

"I've never heard them called that before."

"I hadn't either until--"

"GODDAMN IT! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!"

"Wow...Ross...you are EVIL..."

"Ugh..."

"Want me to take over?"

"NO...I can DO this."

"Okay Arin...just checkin'..."

"But go on, tell me about the prickly-dos Clarice."

"Okay, I--...Arin...really?"

"What?"

"Fuckin...Silence of the Lambs?"

"Yeah!"

"In a fuckin' Mario Maker playthrough?"

"Yeah, I'm cultured and shit!"

"That's a fuckin' crossover no one expected."

"Yep."

"I mean--"

"Hello, Clarice! It's-a-me!"

"Oh my god, Arin."

"I ate-a Yoshi with-a some fava beans and a nice-a Chianti!"

"No, not Yoshi!"

"Yeah, Yos--FUCK! NO! ROSS! I'M GONNA STAB YOU IN THE HERNIA!"

"I'm...pretty sure that's not physically possible."

"Yeah, It fuckin' will be, Dan! I'm gonna give Ross a hernia, and then I'm gonna stab him in it!"

"Holly...sorry if you're hearing this."

"No, don't apologize!"

"Arin's not gonna do that."

"YES I FUCKING WILL!"

"He's just a little upset right now."

"GOD FUCKING SHIT!"

"Because your husband is evil incarnate."

"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRH---ANGRISH!"

"...so anyway, about prickly-dos..."

"Yes, your delightful story, please, continue."

"Well, I met someone who--she didn't play a lot of video games growing up, and she couldn't remember what Pokeys were called, so she always called them Prickly-dos."

"That's kinda fuckin' adorable."

"Yeah, I know, right?"

"Also, SHE? Daniel Avidaniel--"

"No, not like that, you fuck. She's a friend. Shut up."

"All right, geez sorry."

"Well, like, it's a new friendship, and she was a little hesitant about me bringing this up, so..."

"I think I'm getting better at this level."

"As you die for the fiftieth time."

"I--that's beside the point, Daniel."

"The many many points of the pokey Prickly-dos?"

"HOw about you shut your mouth?"

"You pokey little flab biscuit?"

"I think you mean prickly-do little flab biscuit."

"And we have a title for the episode!"

"No, we don't. The title is gonna be Ross's dying screams as I shove the Wiimote into his pancreas."

"That sounds uncomfortable."

"Yeah well--"

"Make sure to use some lube when you do that."

"I--well, geez, Dan. I think the blood from all the viscera will be lube enough."

"You do make a good point."

"Uh-huh."

"A good disgusting point."

"So does your friend have nicknames for anything else from the game?"

"Uh, not really. I think she said something about Boos and Weeping Angels but--you know, I don't watch Doctor Who, so that one kinda went over my head."

"Okay."

"But she was really fucking adorable telling me that so I laughed anyway."

"Awwwwwww Dan's got a cruuuuush."

"Arin, fucking--no. Cut that out."

"Or what, you're gonna fuckin--FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

"...you know what, maybe next time on Game Grumps."

"MAYBE DAN. JESUS."

"yeah, this episode's done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	14. Dead Giveaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where there's a will, there's a cheat. --Dan Avidan, Sonic Boom playthrough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given where I work and who I grew up with, I know a thing or two about wills...so given the latest picture on the NSP Instagram, I write this.

"Hello?"

"Dan, I don't think that will is legit."

"What, the one in the picture with me and Brian?"

"Yeah. It looks...questionable."

"What are you talking about? Of course it's legit!"

"Okay, how do I educate thee? Let me count the ways..."

"Isn't it how do I Love Thee?"

"Ignoring that, first of all, you didn't sign your will."

"Are you asking for my autograph?"

"No. Ego showing much?"

"No, Arin's not here. But if it'll make you happy, here, I'm signing it as we speak."

"Cute. But yeah, whenever you create a will, you need to sign it. Along with two witnesses."

"Brian was there."

"I mean, you need two witnesses to sign your will as well. It notates that you were who you said you were when you signed the will, that you were of sound mind, and that you weren't being coerced by anybody."

"Brian can attest to all of that. Except maybe for the coercion thing. In that, he made me write it out that way."

"And that's not fishy at all?"

"He said it was in my best interests, to leave him everything!"

"Then Brian can't be considered a witness. The witnesses have to be people who won't inherit anything from the will."

"Fine, I'll just get Ross and Barry to sign as witnesses. I'll go all fucking Fury Road on that shit. WITNESS ME."

"Not gonna fly, Thunderdome. They HAVE to watch you sign it, in order to make the will valid."

"Oh my GOD, all these TECHNICALITIES..."

"And there's more."

"GODDAMN IT."

"While it's not REQUIRED - well, some states do, but not all - it'd be best to get your will notarized, or add an affidavit to your will and have that notarized. It'll make all the proceedings that follow a lot easier for everyone involved."

"Including me?"

"You'll be dead."

"Oh right."

"It's optional, though. The notarization. And also, if your will is in the state it's in now, your notary may give you some weird looks. But it'll help prove the validity of your will in the long run. Which, as I said when I first called you, is in SERIOUS question right now."

"By who?"

"By me."

"Okay. What else is missing?"

"you need to date the will."

"But it's a piece of paper? Why would I want to date that? It wouldn't be very fun to make out with."

"I mean write the date in the will next to your signature, ya doof."

"YOU, on the other hand..."

"This better be about dating and not making out because I don't do the make outs. And even then, no to the dating."

"Fine then. I'll just huff off in a tizzy and make a new will with all the helpful tips you've given me."

"Hurray! Finally, Daniel Cornelius Avidan is acting like a proper adult!"

"First of all, that is not my middle name or my first name, and second of all, how do you know so much about wills, anyway?"

"When you grow up with an attorney in the family, you pick up a few things."

"Oh, that makes sense...I think."

"There's this organization called Wills For Heroes - it's when attorneys draft basic wills for first-responders - and I would help out by doing the data entry as the attorneys went over everything with the clients."

"That...sounds really cool, actually."

"Yeah. I mean, it wasn't my thing, but it was easy, and it was good work experience. And life experience."

"I thought for a minute you were gonna say PSYCH, I'm not really musically inclined, I'm actually a lawyer."

"No, no no. I'm in music. I just know a bunch of shit about shit."

"Seriously though, whenever I do get to the point where I think I need a will, I may ask you to come along with me and be my advisor."

"And to be a witness?"

"No, because hopefully by then, we'll know each other and like each other well enough to want to leave each other something."

"I can't decide if that's sweet, forward, or morbid."

"Admittedly, it's kinda a combination of all three."

"Yeah. Like, buy me dinner before you start leaving assets to me upon your hopefully timely death."

"Wait, HOPEFULLY TIMELY?"

"Well, UNtimely makes it sound unexpected. Timely insinuates, to me at least, that you lived to a ripe old age."

"Yeah...but anyway, I'll do the same for you, whenever you need to draft your will."

"Too late. Already have one."

"Wait, seriously?"

"That's what happens when you have an attorney in the family. You wake up when you're eighteen and they say 'happy birthday, my progeny! Your present is a trip to the bank so we can get this very basic will in your name notarized'."

"Wow. Really? Wow."

"Yep."

"Well...I learn something new every day. Both about you and about life things in general."

"Yeah. Sorry if any or all of that was boring for you."

"No, no, it's okay. I really did learn a lot. Stuff that I'll definitely need to know."

"All right...if you're sure..."

"I mean...it kinda ours me to shame. You're years younger than me and you know more about being an adult than I do."

"I doubt that. It doesn't mean you're a bad adult. Not at all. It's just...knowledge I grew up with. And you've had lots of fulfilling adult experiences as well."

"Like fucking?"

"Crude, but...yes. That'd be an adult experience."

"Even if it didn't happen for me for the first time until 23?"

"that says nothing about you as an adult or a person. You waited for the right person. The right time. That's admirable."

"Yeah, but...I still had that feeling of...'this needs to happen'."

"That's because society teaches us that sex is the greatest thing in the world and those who haven't had it yet are missing out on the best thing since masturbation."

"True."

"But anyway...how did we get on to the subject of intercourse?"

"My fault."

"Of course it was, Sexbang."

"But anyway...thanks."

"For what?"

"For teaching me shit, for being my friend, for calling me. I'm always a little sad when a day goes by and I don't hear your voice or get a text from you or whatever."

"Don't get all sappy on me."

"Well...I still mean it."

"...thank you. I'll admit too...kinda the same."

"Really?"

"Maybe a little bit."

"...I'm totally smiling like an idiot right now, I don't know..."

"Dork."

"But anyway...ill let you go, if you need to go."

"I mean...unless you have any more about wills you want to teach me."

"Well...one more thing."

"Lay it on me."

"Okay. Guessing game. What is the definition of a will?"

"...um..."

"You don't know the answer?"

"No--well, I'm guessing it's something really complex."

"It's really not."

"...yeah, I still don't know the answer."

"Come on, Dan. It's a dead giveaway."

"Oh. OH. Oh goddamn it...I kinda hate and love that simultaneously."

"Ross levels of bad pun?"

"Nah. Besides, you're way cuter than Ross."

"Shut up."

"Okay. Have a good night."

"You too Dan. Bye."

"Bye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	15. Covers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff between Dan and reader about music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell most of my inspiration comes from the NSP Instagram?
> 
> Eventually there will be more plot, I promise.
> 
> I'm not in love with this chapter.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey Dan, what's up?"

"You mean, asides from a Pixar film that made me cry?"

"Dork."

"You fuckin know it."

"But seriously..."

"...I dunno...is it stupid to say I just wanted to hear your voice?"

"No. Cliche, absolutely, but....no, not stupid."

"But aren't cliches inherently stupid?"

"Not always. They can be done well. Tropes are not bad and all that."

"So...is this one doing well?"

"Daniel Avidaniel, are you flirting with me again?"

"Maybe."

"You need to cut that out."

"But it's fun!"

"Yeah, and I know it's just a part of you..."

"...but hey, if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop."

"No no, I didn't mean that...I mean...yeah okay maybe on some days like today, I'm not much up for the flirting but...don't overworry or anything. It's just...me..."

"That's okay. Don't worry either. I like you no matter what."

"...shut up."

"I don't mean that in a flirty way either. You're my friend. I'm gonna like you no matter what. Good days and bad days."

"...more shut up."

"Aw, come on."

"Sorry, I know, I know."

"We can change the subject to something less corny."

"Um...geez, I hate to keep bringing up your Instagram, but..."

"No, it's okay. It's cool."

"And this is gonna keep in the realm of corn but...seeing that picture...I dunno, it kinda made me proud of you."

"Thanks."

"I mean...speaking of stupid...like, it's not even your first CD, and we still don't know each other that well but...it's just...really fucking cool, to see you in the finishing stages of something so important to you and something I KNOW you worked hard on...heh, I said 'hard on'."

"Hey come on, that's supposed to be my line."

"I know, but still...it's really fucking cool, dude."

"Thanks...that means a lot. I mean, I know it's not your kind of music but--"

"Hey, not true. Just because I sing classical for a living doesn't mean that's the only kind of music I enjoy."

"You're right, that was unfair of me...I apologize."

"It's okay, hon."

"Aw, you called me hon."

"Don't look too much into it, Avidan. I call Nora hon all the time."

"Nora?"

"Best friend since school. Current choir director. I've actually been trying to get her into Skyhill for a while, but she hasn't had time yet."

"Well, maybe the cover album...?"

"Maybe. Speaking of, how many of those do you think you and Brian will end up signing?"

"Uggggggh...why did you say that? My wrist already hurts from thinking about that."

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I'll pay for yours and Brian's carpal tunnel surgery."

"I don't think it'll be that extreme."

"Enh, ya never know."

"I hope there won't be that many this time."

"Regardless, make sure the Internet gets another video involving your hips and a BeeGees song."

"Oh, you liked that, huh?"

"I said 'the internet', ya doof. Though yes, it was fun watching you dance to a song you obviously loved. Especially when you skipped and twirled your way off camera."

"But my hips? Do they lie? That do anything for you?"

"What did I say earlier about flirting for the day?"

"Sorry, I forgot..."

"It's okay. You can make it up to me by hip dancing to Mozart."

"Oh god, THAT'LL go over well with the fans."

"Okay, fine, I will do that the next time I'm ever on a CD. Which is far less likely."

"You're on CDs?"

"Choir CDs from college. Nothing like your process - just a series of recordings from various concerts. Different kind of professionalism and level of commitment but...yeah."

"And I still have yet to hear a thing."

"You can always look it up for yourself."

"I don't even know what college you went to."

"True."

"You're such a musical tease."

"If I really was, I'd sing one note and leave it at that. Like, one note from the War Requiem."

"War Requiem?"

"Benjamin Britten composition. Text of the requiem combined with poems by Wilfred Owen. It's discordant and dramatic and difficult as fuck to sing."

"I'll pretend I know what most of that meant."

"But basically, Nora slated me to be the female soloist for a performance of it later this month and it's kinda kicking my ass."

"That's cool though! Congratulations!"

"I can't even remember if i told you already or not, honestly. That's how much it's kicking my ass. Along with regular choir and organizing everything for the high school ensemble."

"It's still really cool."

"Thanks."

"I'm proud of you too. ...I mean, you said you were proud of me earlier so...hearing about your accomplishments...I'm proud of you too."

"Thank you. That means a lot coming from..."

"A fellow musician? An Internet persona?"

"No. Just from...you. Like...YOU you. Leigh Daniel Avidan you."

"That's the first time you said my full name correctly."

"Indeed."

"Music to my ears."

"Okay, I need to hang up so I can go vomit because we've gotten all kinds of cheesy up in this call."

"Yeah, I'm feeling a little barfy too."

"I mean, if this is how we are as friends, imagine how bad the cheese levels would be if we WERE dating."

"Sooooooo cheesy."

"Still not an invitation."

"I know. That's fine."

"Okay. I'm just...never sure, with all your flirting."

"I'll back off on it for a while. Promise."

"Okay. ...well...I can't wait for the CD. Send me a copy?"

"Absolutely. Want it signed?"

"Only if your wrist hasn't disintegrated to mush by then."

"It's a deal. Trade you for one of your college choir CDs?"

"Not really a fair trade. Your CD will be me being able to hear just you. I'll be hidden amongst 50-plus other voices."

"Still a fair trade to me because you were in there somewhere."

"...okay, REALLY hanging up now, I just looked at the time and I need to get to Requiem practice."

"Okay. Sing good!"

"I'll try. Proud of you."

"Proud of you too."

"Bye Dan."

"Bye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	16. Oversized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun with acronyms lies beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a new shirt I tried on this morning.

"Hello?"

"Hey baby girl what's up?"

"Dan, please never call me your baby girl ever again."

"Will do honey bunch."

"It's gonna be one of those conversations isn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean, flower crown."

"Speaking of flowers, man, I grossly overestimated my own fatness when it comes to this shirt."

"...I have several questions. First of all, why did flowers remind you of a shirt?"

"Because the shirt has flowers on it."

"Oh. Second of all, you're not fat."

"Dan, that's not a question."

"That's beside the point. Why do you think you're fat?"

"Because I am."

"I have seen you. You did not look fat to me."

"Suuuuuure I didn't."

"You're not fat!"

"Well, according to the scale and my doctors office, technically, I am overweight."

"Pssssh. Doctors. What do they know?"

"Well, my doctor didn't actually say anything about my weight. I referred to the BMI chart."

"Ah yes. BMI. That stands for Bullshit Most Irrational, doesn't it?"

"Nah, I think it stands for Being Massively Irate."

"Brenda Made Icing?"

"Bring More Ibises."

"Buy My Idiosyncrasies!"

"Big Massive Icicles."

"Brought Mom's Ire."

"Bali. Mini Island."

"Bloated Mangy Icarus."

"Oh god Dan, gross."

"What? After he fell into the sea after his wax wings melted, his corpse was bound to get pretty disgusting."

"Yeah well...Bloody Mauled Ichthus is what I have to say to that."

"Bravely Mourning Ida."

"Benchpressing Mighty Ibuprofen."

"Now THAT is an amazing mental image."

"Don't you mean a BRILLIANT Mental Image?"

"Bravo, My Iris."

"Sweet talking me again, Avidan?"

"Maybe. Your shirt has flowers on it apparently, so...just going off of that."

"Speaking of, Jesus Christ, this shirt...this will never see the light of day on my body. In public anyway."

"Aw, it can't be that bad."

"I mean, it'll probably make a good pajama shirt, but not one I can wear to work or shit."

"It probably still looks pretty on you."

"Shut up please."

"Absolutely not."

"UGH...it's so flouncy and billowy in me. And not in a flattering way."

"That is for other expose to decide. Me being one of those people."

"No."

"Aww.."

"GAH...it keeps falling off my shoulder, I keep having to adjust. This was a mistake."

"Oh, fuck no, bare shoulder is sexy."

"Dan, come on..."

"No, seriously, that is so fucking sexy, when a girls shirt is sliding down her shoulder..."

"Dan..."

"Like, I would totally kiss on that..."

"Dan seriously, please stop. Or I'm hanging up."

"...I'm sorry."

"Just...no more of that. Okay?"

"Okay. ...I'm sorry. I went too far, I'm such a shitheel--"

"Dan, stop, you're not, it's...you didn't know."

"No, but I should've cut that out sooner."

"Dan...it's...like, the pet names are fine, that's whatever, but...the shoulder thing...I know it's irrational but...not again."

"Okay. I promise. Promise."

"Thank you."

"...I'm still really fucking sorry. I never meant to--"

"Dan, it's okay. You didn't know. I'll...you'll get an explanation one day. But...going into that is something I'd rather do in person. Not on the phone."

"Okay."

"...I'm sorry if I was too harsh."

"It's okay. You had reasons to be. I overstepped a boundary."

"So...we're both sorry. And we're both okay."

"Sounds good. ...can I say something else."

"Of course, Dan."

"Breakfast Marginally Incessant."

"Thanks."

"No problem. ...do you want me to hang up now?"

"...only if you want to. Don't feel like you have to because I made things awkward."

"You didn't...but...I can give you some space? If you need it?"

"I mean...there's already plenty of space between us.."

"You know what I meant."

"Dan...don't be afraid to call, if you want to."

"Okay. But...I think I'll hang up now regardless."

"Okay. Have a good night."

"You too."

"Talk to you soon?"

"...yeah."

"Bye Dan."

"Bye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	17. Overthinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation between reader and Nora.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Nora/Reader is not the endship of this fic. Their friendship is based on the relationship I share with my best friend/most favorite person in the world. And yes, still a lot of vagueness. (In reader's defense, it's shit she doesn't like to talk about, and Nora understands that.)

It was a couple of nights after the conversation with Dan that had turned awkward.

A couple of days since you’d heard from him at all.

You felt awful. You knew he did too, which made you feel even more awful. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know. You’d explained that, and said don’t worry, just call me if you want.

But you were too chicken shit yourself to call him.

So instead you called Nora. She was over in an inordinately quick amount of time.

“You sped, didn’t you?” you asked as you opened the door to let her in.

“Maybe,” Nora said, making a beeline for the futon, eying the cocoon you’d made for yourself on it – blankets, pillows, iDevice chargers tangling on the floor with said iDevices plugged in. iPhone as far away as it could be within arm’s reach (as paradoxical as it sounded).

“I’ll get you a drink,” you said, turning for the kitchen, but paused at Nora saying your name. Without looking at her, just staring down at the floor, you padded softly over to the futon and nestled into the cocoon again. Nora gathered the blankets around you as you curled into yourself, and pushed a loose strand of your hair back, tucking it behind your ear.

“Talk to me, hon,” she said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“…I think I fucked things up,” you said, not looking at her. “With Dan.” She said nothing – silently waiting for you to continue. “He got…well, he GETS flirty sometimes, Which honestly, I don’t mind, he’s always been jokey enough about it that it doesn’t bother me. Like, I know he’s not pushing me or…whatever.”

A pause.

“But…?” Nora prompted. You shook your head, trying to blink back tears.

“I’m being so fucking stupid,” you said, trying so hard not to cry. “It’s not even like we’re dating or shit, so…”

“It’s okay, hon,” Nora soothed, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, resting her head in the crook of your neck.

“I’d bought this new shirt that was too big, and…I don’t know why, I mentioned that, and how it kept falling off my shoulders, and…god, I fucking shouldn’t have because…he said it was sexy and…like…”

You broke off. Both to compose yourself, and to find the right words. Nora rocked you gently, patient.

“…he may as well have kissed my shoulder,” you finally said. “At least, he talked about wanting to ‘kiss on that shit’.” You laughed, in spite of yourself – just one laugh, before holding back a sob. “It…fuck, it reminded me of…”

“Oh honey…” Nora full-on hugged you now, stroking your hair as you buried your face in her shoulder, trying not to cry.

“It’s so stupid,” you cried. “Dan didn’t fucking know, but…I snapped at him and…god, he felt horrible, like…he’d overstepped a boundary and…I can’t tell him. Not now. Not over the phone. But…”

“Did the call end badly?” Nora asked.

“No…well…it could have been worse?” You struggled again for the right words. “He apologized a lot. I apologized a lot. We said we’d talk again soon. But…I don’t know, I’m too scared, I know, and…who knows, maybe he just doesn’t fucking want to talk to me anymore.”

“Honey—”

“I know, Nora, I know, that’s really fucking irrational of me to say, but…” You pulled yourself away from Nora’s arms to runs your hands through your hair and hide your face. “I hate saying this…it’s too soon…but there is this tiny little part of me that does really fucking like the shit out of him.”

“And that’s the part that fucking terrifies you?”

“Fuck yes.” You gathered your blankets around yourself and burrowed into the pillows, as though trying to become one with the futon. “I don’t like feeling that way because…just…too many reasons I don’t like feeling this way.”

“I know, honey,” Nora said, patting the top of your head. “I know it sucks. But I also know it can be a good thing.” 

“Like…Nora, even if I wanted to pursue these feelings, even if Dan isn’t joking all the time, he’s…he goes by the name Danny Sexbang on the fucking web. There’s no way—”

“You don’t know that,” Nora said.

“Well, even outside of that, on the show, he is…NOT shy about talking about his experiences. And how much he likes it.”

“Honey…” Nora hugged you again.

“I know…I’m overworrying. He probably doesn’t even feel that way.”

“Well, if he doesn’t, he’s missing out,” Nora said, a hint of slyness in her voice. You smiled for the first time that day. “What? It’s true.”

“You’re just saying that because we have that pact that if we’re both still single by whenever, we’re marrying each other.”

“And I love that pact because I love you,” Nora insisted, kissing your forehead. “Doesn’t stop me from keeping my options open. And who knows? Dan may beat me to the punch. If he does, that’s okay. If he doesn’t, also okay.”

“And I say I’M overthinking my relationship with Dan,” you said, shaking your head.

“What is it you fan people say…I ship it?”

“You’re ridiculous, Nora,” you said fondly, kissing her cheek. “But thank you.” Nora smiled, resting her forehead against yours. “You’re still my favorite person ever.”

“Dan aside?” Nora teased. You nudged her.

“Dan aside.”

“You’re my favorite person, too.”

“…you know, no wonder everyone thought we were a couple all throughout college,” you said after a moment.

“We could pick that up again,” Nora suggested. “Make Dan hella jealous.”

“He’s not gonna be jealous, he’s probably gonna be…well, the words out of his mouth will probably be along the lines of ‘that’s so fucking hot’ or ‘KISS ALREADY’.”

“Regular Dan or Sexbang Dan?”

“Yes.”

“…you gonna call him?”

“…I don’t know…it feels…weird…and what if he doesn’t pick up?” You sank back on the futon again. “I fucked everything up, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“…it still feels like I did. Dan doesn’t know that I’m a complete fucking wreck when it comes to that shit. I mean…whenever I tell him about that, I want it to be in person. Not over the phone. And I told him as such.”

“Understandable.”

“…I mean, he doesn’t know AT all, any inkling. Only that shoulder kissing is out of the question.”

“Maybe he just feels like he overstepped a friendship boundary?” Nora suggested. “Or forgot he wasn’t talking to…what’s-his-name, Darren?”

“Arin,” you said. “Maybe. …but if that’s the case, why hasn’t he called?”

“Maybe he wants you to feel comfortable enough to call. Or maybe he’s just been really unexpectedly busy.”

“Well then, we’re at a fucking standstill,” you sighed. You plopped over on your side, burying your face in the blankets and pillows, moaning loudly.

“Wanna watch some horror movies?” Nora asked. “Take your mind off of things? Watch terrible people die in horrible ways?” Without moving your body, you nodded your head. “Want me to choose something?” Another nod. “Okay. Don’t be surprised if it’s a Hellraiser movie.”

Within half an hour, you were completely distracted by Frank Cotton being a douche, and Kirsty Cotton being a badass. Nora was half-watching the movie, half-scrolling through her phone.

Unbeknownst to you, she kept tapping back to her Contacts list, staring at a name you didn’t know that she’d pilfered from your own phone. Wondering if it would be a breach of privacy – well, a FURTHER breach of privacy – to intervene.

Well…she was curious about Dan. And she had some choice things to say to him. Some bad…some conspiratorial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	18. Mater Suspiriarum, Lacrimarum, Tenebrarum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader has a suck day.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING for descriptions of a death scene from a 1970s Italian horror film.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Suspiria. Once again, TRIGGER WARNINGS for descriptions of the first death scene of the film (which involves stabbing and hanging). (But also I'd recommend checking that scene out because it's beautiful and gory and beautifully gory.)
> 
> This is less of a chapter and more me trying to feel my way through the suck feels I've had today. I tried to cheer myself up with "The Last Unicorn" on repeat, with Dan's epic chord declarations of "I'm Alive". 
> 
> Sadly, it didn't work.
> 
> Depressive episodes are a bitch.

You hated days like this. Your low days.

Because you had no excuse at work to be the sad you wanted to be. You had to be ON.

And if that wasn’t exhausting enough, the day itself had not been a good one. If your depression hadn’t decided to kick in today, the day would have sucked, but at least felt manageable. But no. Suckiness all around.

The bulk of the day was wrapped up in the first of long mass rehearsals for the War Requiem. For whatever reason, you couldn’t make the conductor happy today. You were too sharp, too flat, too loud, too soft, too too much of a thing you weren’t supposed to be. It’s not like the conductor was awful about it, either; in fact, he was quite kind, if not a little terse. But how you performed hadn’t seemed any different from any other day. And the constant beings of too something didn’t help. You were trying – the conductor knew you were trying your best – but it never seemed good enough.

It was also the weekly practice with the high school girls’ ensemble. Normally, rehearsal went smoothly, but the entire chorus of girls seemed to not want to focus today. It was all you could do not to burst out yelling, throw your music, and storm out of the classroom. You suppressed it. Smiled calmly. Voice kind but firm. But they still did not want to give you the time of day.

Even at home, working on the chords and piano for the SSAA of “The Last Unicorn” felt difficult. Like you couldn’t make any headway. So you just saved what you had, attached it to an email addressed to Brian, saying “I need your Ph.D. skills to help me make this good”. Click Send, and that was that.

The day had felt too long. And in the back of your mind, all you could think was “I want to cry. Today was hell, and I just want to cry it out.” But you couldn’t. You were physically unable to. Your eyes were dry, overdry, red and bloodshot and tired. 

Tired. That was it. Just…too tired to feel much of anything. And really, honestly, not feeling anything when you wanted to feel something…that was worse to you than feeling sad and crying. It felt wrong.

You were trying to distract yourself from how you were feeling by watching “Suspiria”. But even the haunting celeste score – a score you loved - was grating on you, so you hit Mute and threw the remote away from you, watching Jessica Harper and the pretty colors and Dario Argento’s beautiful direction.

It sucked when even the things you liked couldn’t even make you feel better. Or when they couldn’t keep your interest. It was the absolute worst. But you left the movie on, staring at the screen without really staring at it. Like your eyes were pointed at the screen, but you weren’t really looking at anything. Just color blurring together.

You blinked. Still blurry. But no tears.

You racked your brain for what else you’d tried in the past on your low days to cheer you up. Baking…but you didn’t have ingredients (or energy). Coloring…but all your markers had dried out. Game Grumps…but you were already watching “Suspiria”.

As, onscreen, Pat screamed at the hand that had reached for her through the window, you reached for your phone. You scrolled through your Contacts. You pressed a name.

The phone rang as Pat’s friend pounded on the doors, screaming for help, there was a murderer. Cut to Pat being stabbed in the chest.

The click of the phone being answered.

“Hello?”

More pounding on the doors. More Pat being stabbed.

“Hi Dan.”

“Hey.”

First time calling him since…well, your freakout thing. He hadn’t called. And you were hesitant to. But then today happened and…

…well, now you had nothing to say. But you were momentarily distracted by that wonderful show of the knife going straight into Pat’s beating heart.

“You okay?” Dan asked.

“No,” you said. Pat’s head began to sink through the cracking yellow of the plate glass window that was the ceiling.

“…wanna talk about it?” Dan asked.

“No,” you repeated. Pat’s friend ran into the atrium, staring above at the cracking plate glass ceiling. Cut to Pat’s silent scream of a face.

“Can I help?” Dan asked.

“...I don’t know,” you said.

It wasn’t completely a lie. Dan’s voice – in a Game Grumps binge or listening to Skyhill – usually lifted your spirits a bit on a low day. Not today. Not completely.

But hearing him on the other end of the line…knowing he was there, even if he wasn’t saying anything…

“I just need to hear your voice,” you said, your voice cracking.

You were crying. Shit. Well…not completely. It was an emotion.

The plate glass ceiling shattered, shards clattering down to Pat’s screaming friend. An electrical cord yanked itself free from a wall, then sprung taut as the noose it had been fashioned into caught Pat’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	19. The chapters I meant to write last week...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More pretty much just dialogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to get this story back on track before the chapters I have planned for this coming weekend. Blarg. I should've written this last week.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your kind messages following my bummer author's note from Saturday. Your care and well wishes and patience mean more than you know. I'm grateful for each and every person who checks this story out. :)
> 
> Also we have a Suzy and a Barry now.

[Email from Brian dated January 22]

Hello, Choir person lady,

Been look over your retooling of The Last Unicorn. Made a few notes here and there, if you’ll pardon the not-accidental-at-all pun. For the most part, I think it’s really good. Maybe not ENTIRELY the way I liked for Dan’s. But I am reminding myself that this will be for high school girls, and keeping that in mind with my critiques.

You haven’t done an awful job or anything like that. I think what you have is good given in mind who’ll be singing it.

If you’re going to MAGFest – I don’t know what your schedule is like or if you’re a con-goer – but IF you are, shoot me an email. If you want, we can meet up and go over the music in person. (I can make something up to Dan about going off to scare children or something.) But that’s ONLY if you’re going. If not, email’s cool. Though I do eventually expect a video of the performance.

Speaking of videos, I’m attaching a video to THIS email for you. I think you’ll like it. We had karaoke night a few nights ago.

Sincerely,

Brian

***

[transcript of video]

(Dan is already singing)

DAN: …my fault, and in a way I guess it was…

(camera zooms in past the turned heads of Arin and Suzy, as past the crowd it can get, to Dan standing at the microphone – eyes closed, cradling the mic, swaying slightly to the music as it picks up)

DAN: We’d moved to the West Coast…away from everyone…she never told me that you called…back when I was still, I was still in love—

(As the drums kick in, Dan’s swaying becomes more pronounced and rock-out-y, hips hypnotically swaying. Someone cheers – Arin, Ross, Suzy, whoever.)

DAN: ‘Til I opened my eyes and walked out the door, and the clouds came tumbling down, and it’s bye-bye, goodbye, I tried

(Another cheer; Dan tries not to smile)

DAN: And I twisted it wrong just to make it right, had to leave myself behind, and I’ve been flying high all night…so come pick me up…I’ve landed…

BARRY (from offcamera): Dude are you filming this?

(Camera turns from Dan to Barry, who is arching an eyebrow.)

BRIAN (from behind camera): Well, I WAS, but now I’m filming you.

 

(Barry glares at the camera. Dan’s still singing in the background

DAN: The daily dramas she made from nothing…so nothing ever made ‘em right…

ROSS (from offcamera): Kinda weird.

(Camera shoots over to Ross, who is watching Dan.)

ROSS: Doesn’t he usually sing something from, like, the 70s or 80s or something?

BARRY: Well, it kinda sounds like Tiny Dancer, so…

ROSS: Yeah, but always something more hard rock-y and metal-y. Something that gets the Jewfro bangin’.

SUZY (turning back): Will you guys shush and listen to Dan?

DAN: She liked to push me…and talk me back down ‘til I believed I was the crazy one, and in a way, I guess I was while I opened my eyes and walked out the door, and the clouds came tumbling down, and its bye-bye, goodbye, I tried…

ARIN: I WANT YOUR BABIES!

SUZY: Arin…

DAN (sending a death glare Arin’s way for a split second before getting back into the song): Dragging the sea of a troubled mind, had to leave myself behind singing bye-bye, goodbye, I tried…if you wrote me off, I’d understand it, ‘cause I’ve been on some other planet, so come pick me up…I’ve landed…and you will be so…happy to know…I’ve come alone…it’s over…

(As the piano picks up for a quick instrumental, Dan closes his eyes again, allowing himself to groove a bit more heartily to the instrumentals. This prompts catcalls from Arin and Ross, while Brian laughs and Suzy tells them to cut it out.)

DAN (back up at the mic): Well, I opened my eyes and walked out the door, and the clouds came tumbling down, and it’s bye-bye, goodbye, I tried…down comes the reign of the telephone czar, it’s okay to call, and I will answer for myself…come pick me up, bye-bye…bye-bye…bye-bye, bye-bye, bye-bye, ba-ba-ba-ba-bye, I’ve landed…

(Dan stills as the music fades, and applause fills the karaoke space. Heaviest from the Grump table, of course. Dan rolls his eyes at them, but smiles at the rest of the room before stepping out of the spotlight and off the stage, towards the table.)

BARRY (monotone): Yaaaaaaaaaay.

DAN (as he sits down): Your enthusiasm speaks volumes, Barry.

SUZY (handing Dan a glass of water): Good job up there! I’ve never heard that song before. Kinda different for you.

DAN: Yeah well…kinda felt like singing something a little different tonight.

SUZY: Where’d you hear it?

DAN: A friend. She’s actually the reason I’m on a Ben Folds kick right now – that’s the guy who wrote song what with which I just sang.

ARIN: SHE, Dan?

DAN: Shut up.

ARIN: Is this the same she with the prickly-dos and the whatnot?

DAN: Yes, but still shut up.

ROSS: Wait, is also also the same she you were texting when you were supposed to be Grumping that one time?

(Dan blushes in lieu of an answer.)

ARIN: Dan’s got a cruuuuuuuuush…

DAN: What, are we in grade school again?

SUZY: Babe, come on.

BRIAN: No, keep going. I like watching Dan squirm.

DAN (only just now noticing): …Brian, why are you filming this?

BRIAN: Instagram. And tumblr. The world needs more Danny hip swaying.

DAN: No, they do not.

BRIAN: Kind of a depressing song, isn’t it? To be “your song”? You and Prickly-Do?

DAN: It is not OUR song. We don’t HAVE a song. We’re just friends.

ROSS: You sure about that?

DAN: Brian, turn the camera off.

BRIAN: Fine, I got what I needed, anyway.

***

[audio from phone call made January 22]

“Hello?”

“Is this Dan?”

“…yes…?

“Dan…Avidan, I think that’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s me…who are you?”

“Hello, Dan. My name’s Nora.”

“Nora…um…hi?”

“I believe you’re friends with a friend of mine.”

“OH…you’re THAT Nora.”

“That’d better be complimentary.”

“Um—sorry, didn’t mean THAT Nora like that. Or anything. You seem really nice from what I’ve been told about you…and from talking to you right now.”

“Thank you.”

“Speaking of, how am I talking to you right now?”

“I called you.”

“I know THAT, but how did you get this number? Are you calling from her phone or…?”

“No. Got your number FROM her phone. Calling from mine.”

“Okay. That clears that up. Still doesn’t answer why.”

“Well, you never asked why. You asked how.”

“Oh god, with the semantics and such…”

“Have you called her recently?”

“Um…no? I’ve…been busy?”

“Not buying it, Dan.”

“Is she…upset that I haven’t called?”

“No. Not really. More upset with herself. Feels like she ruined things between you two. Made things awkward.”

“But I told her she didn’t!”

“Doesn’t stop her from thinking it.”

“I…I just wanted to give her some space after…”

“I think somewhere deep down, she knows that. She just still blames herself. Is afraid to call.”

“Afraid of me?”

“No. More afraid of awkwardness.”

“…oh.”

“War Requiem isn’t helping either. Rehearsals have picked up and the tech and dress ones start this weekend, so she’s been a little slammed.”

“Oh.”

“Barely talks to me during tech weeks, and I’m her best friend.”

“…oh. Sorry.”

“Hey, not your fault. I know how she gets. …I take it that’s something you’re still learning about her.”

“Well…yeah…but I’m not, like, pushing her for her life story or anything. We just…talk…about whatever. And it’s really fun and she’s really cool and I like talking to her and…maybe I kinda miss her a lot.”

“You could miss her less.”

“…wait, what?”

“Got any plans next weekend?”

“…why?”

“Hold on. I’m gonna hang up and text you some deets. Hopefully they’ll work.”

“Work for what?”

“Just…shush and trust me.”

“Um…okay?”

“Oh, also, by the way, if you ever hurt her, I will end you.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know. Just had to throw that out there.”

“Okay…”

“Okay, hanging up now. Nice talking to you, Dan.”

“Uh—same here, Nora.”

“Text you in a minute. Bye!”

“Uh, bye—um…what just happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	20. A Sorta Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fairytale metaphors make an entrance. (Don't get excited.)
> 
> Title of chapter is also the title of a Tori Amos song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was rough. Very rough. But hey. Another filler chapter out. I don't much care for it, but I'm in a bad brainspace right now. Apologies.

“Nora, is this really necessary?”

“Not necessarily. But it IS fun, you gotta admit.”

You were standing in front of a three-way-mirror in one of the dressing rooms of a department store, wearing a black dress, while Nora smiled at your frowning visage through the reflection.

“Fun for you, maybe,” you grumbled, shifting in the dress. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with the black dress I have at home.”

“You’ve been wearing that one for YEARS in concerts!” Nora said.

“Yeah. Because it looks fine on me and still fits well,” you insisted. “Why change it up now?”

“Because how many times have you had to fix that dress in one way or another? Need I remind you of the black duct tape debacle?”

“It wasn’t THAT bad.”

“Yeah. It was.”

“Still…” you looked at your body in the new black dress and grimaced. “This one isn’t doing me any favors. Accentuates every roll I have and makes up new ones.”

“Okay, admittedly…I agree with you. On THIS one,” Nora said, gesturing at the dress. “We’ve all tried on things that looked better on the hanger than they did on ourselves.”

“You mean, everything I’ve ever tried on ever?” you said.

“You shut your mouth, lady, you are lovely,” Nora said, turning to the chair over which a number of dresses were draped. “Sure you don’t wanna go back to the purple one?”

“No, purple’s not me,” you said. “Not for a solo.”

“You know, you’re not REQUIRED to wear black.”

“I know, but…I feel better in it onstage,” you said, taking the hangers that Nora was stuffing into your hand. “Don’t stand out too much.”

“That’s kinda the point of soloists, but whatever,” Nora sighed. You looked down at the new black dresses hanging from the hangers in your hand.

“Seriously, is this necessary?” you asked. “I mean, it’s no different from any other solo I’ve had to sing. Not like…I don’t know, Kathleen Battle or whoever is gonna be in the audience. Or…some recruiter for some big opera company or something.”

“Yeah, but new clothes are always fun!” Nora said. “Plus they give you confidence. And also, you never shop for clothes if you can help it. It won’t hurt to treat yourself every once in a while.”

“But this much?” you said, glancing down at the price tags, wincing inwardly.

“If you find the right dress,” Nora argued, “that you know will become your NEW go-to, and you’ll wear over and over for years and years, it’ll pay off in the end. Like Doc Marten boots or whatever. Worth the price.”

You stared at Nora for a long while before sighing and turning towards the stall where your day clothes lay crumpled in a heap on the floor.

“Only if I find ‘the right dress’,” you called to Nora as you unzipped the awful black dress you were wearing and reached for one of the new ones. “No guarantees.”

“Okay,” Nora said, sounding unconvinced.

“And we’re not doing this all day,” you said, stepping into the new dress. “I’m not gonna let you lead me on some wild goose chase for a glass slipper.”

“Fine, Cinderella,” Nora teased. “Ignore your fairy godmother. …also, if you call yourself an ugly stepsister, I’m gonna come in there and—”

“What, force me into that bright green monstrosity we saw on the racks earlier, which would only add to my ugly stepsister argument?”

“…you win this round, Cinderella.”

“Thanks, stepmother.”

“HARSH.”

“Hey, I didn’t say ‘wicked’.”

“True…but still harsh.”

You didn’t bother to look in the mirror in the stall. You just walked out and faced Nora. You stretched your arms out in a half-hearted attempt at a “Ta-da” pose.

“Verdict?” you asked.

“I think we found your glass slipper,” Nora said, after a pause, an excited smile coming over her face.

“You’re just biased,” you said.

“No, really…come on, look,” Nora said, taking your wrist and pulling you in front of the three-way-mirror. Your voice faltered.

The dress was…not STUNNING, not a knockout…but you didn’t want it to be. Black, of course, made of material that looked and felt comfortable and expensive (though the price tag argued otherwise). The bodice was long-sleeved, to the point of covering your hands, with a scoop neckline that was the right balance between modest and showy. The waist cut just below empire, but not in such a way that it made your midsection look curvier than it was. And the skirt hung freely, flowing down to your feet, long enough to cover them but not to a point where you thought you would trip wearing the dress.

“Verdict?” Nora echoed. You tried not to smile. But the rare “Oh wow, I actually look pretty for once” effect you were feeling made that impossible.

“Okay…maybe you were right this time, fairy godmother,” you admitted. Nora hugged you from behind, smiling at you again through the mirror – a smile you returned this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	21. The Curious Case of Benjamin Britten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War Requiem performances end, and this is how the rest of the day is spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hokay. so. (here's the earth...kidding.)
> 
> apparently, I was under the assumption that AO3 had some sort of private messaging system. it does not. so some of you were wondering how to ask me about the situations surrounding this story. which...they don't surround THIS story, in particular, but...
> 
> very simply...there are people i don't want to find me (for continuous harassment/bullying reasons). that's really all i want to say publically, so please understand and respect my wishes for this story to be kept private/for AO3 members only. no outside links or anything, please.
> 
> okay. regarding story.
> 
> this is the chapter I've been planning for a while. at least one of you saw this coming.

You sat in the dressing room, alone. That mix of completion, sadness, and nausea you usually felt after the last performance of a concert had settled in nicely. The nausea usually strengthened when you were a soloist.

Like for the oratorio.

You reached for your choir bag and opened it, looking for the bottle of Tums you always bought before concerts. A few chalky pastel discs fell into your hand and you tossed them back, as though to swallow them. But these being Tums, you chewed, to release the antacid. You closed your eyes and sighed as the promise of going to work quickly proved true, and your stomach settled.

It had been a rewarding weekend. But long. And full of nerves. Through the years, you’d never quite been able to kick the nerves completely, despite finding coping methods that seemed to help sometimes.

But now it was over. It was Sunday afternoon. And you didn’t have to worry about any performances for a long while.

You glanced at the clock. Alost everyone else in the choir had left long ago, after at least half an hour of hugs and congratulations and “great job’s” and such. A couple bouquets of flowers sat in front of the lighted mirror, next to your bag – gifts from the conductor, the baritone and tenor soloists. Sweet gestures. Expected gestures. 

You stood, slipped the strap of the bag over your shoulder, and gathered the bouquets into the crook of one arm. You fished around in your bag for your phone, finding it within a few seconds. Nora had developed a habit a texting you after every performance, usually with a message of where to meet up after.

This one was different.

“Hey lady. Great job as always. Got a lot to prep for the week so you enjoy your night and I’ll see you at practice. I know you’re heartbroken.”

You shook your head and laughed a little. You closed the message and scrolled through your phone as you walked, checking your email, social media feeds, glancing up every now and again to make sure you weren’t about to trip on stairs or run into walls as you made your way through the lobby.

You heard someone say your name, and you barely glanced up, assuming it was someone from the choir wishing you a goodbye. You murmured a “thanks, you too” as you walked and looked back at your phone.

But the voice called your name again, louder. Growing louder and nearer. Maybe it was someone from Nora’s choir who’d been in the audience…or something. You kept walking, but glanced back over your shoulder to greet them.

And you stopped and turned again. Because that person looked awfully like Dan Avidan.

And sounded awfully like Dan Avidan.

But this guy was dressed way too nice to be Dan Avidan. What had he said his style was in an LP? “Faded t-shirts with rapidly disintegrating pants”, something like that? The Dan in front of you was wearing a pair of jeans that…admittedly looked faded and a bit worn, but had no holes. And…okay, a black t-shirt, but…no band logos. Also, not faded – a nice deep black. And a leather jacket – fairly basic and…nice-looking.

Your mouth was hanging open. You knew your mouth was hanging open. But hey, it was better that your mouth was hanging open than you dropping everything in your arms in shock.

Because yeah. You were shocked.

What the hell and how the hell was he here?

He smiled, and laughed a little.

Shit…had you said that out loud?

“Um…hey,” he said, rising from the bench he was sitting on, apparently waiting for you.

Well…of course, who the hell else would he have known here?

“Hi,” you finally said as he walked up to you. “Sorry, I’m…”

“Really fucking surprised?” he offered.

“Yeah, exactly,” you said, with a little nervous laugh, covering your mouth momentarily before moving your hand to your face. Felt hot. Shit…you were totally blushing.

“I, um…here,” Dan said, holding his hand out a little. You just now noticed the single flower he was holding. An iris.

“…because you called me an iris when we were making up acronyms?” you asked. “Or did you know I liked ‘Suspiria’?”

“Um…the first one…I don’t know what ‘Suspiria’ is,” he said. “Not as…well, as your other flowers but…”

“No, no, I love it, thank you,” you said quickly, taking the flower. “Sorry, my brain is…I’m still stuck at…holy shit, you’re here and…how?”

“Well, I got on a plane and—”

“Not what I meant, ya doof. I mean…why? Why are you here? I don’t…you didn’t have to. You REALLY didn’t. I don’t get it.”

He ran a hand through his (remarkably tame) mane of curls and shifted his weight from one foot to another. You could tell he was hesitant to explain.

“Could I tell you over dinner?” he finally said. “Like…what’s a good restaurant here?”

“I…um…if it’s okay, I kinda placed a pickup order this morning,” you said, your turn to shuffle your feet. “It’s kinda my after-the-last-performance ritual. Order takeout. hole up in my apartment, get the hell out of my concert attire, and avoid people.” You looked back up at him, wincing at the last thing you’d said. “Not…that I want to avoid you, just…”

“I know,” Dan said. “After so many performances, you get exhausted, right?” You nodded. “What order did you place?”

“Pizza.”

“What kind?”

“Pepperoni.”

“Size?”

“Large.”

“Really?”

‘You underestimate how much pizza I can eat in one sitting.”

“That’s maybe the hottest thing I’ve ever heard a girl say.”

“Shut up…”

A small silence fell. For a moment, you two just stared at each other. Small smiles. You still couldn’t quite believe he was here. That he’d been in the audience.

“Well,” you finally said, “you can follow along in your car if—”

“I…actually didn’t rent a car,” Dan said. “Kinda…took a cab from the airport. And took one here.”

“Oh—shit, I’ll pay you back, I promise, I—” 

“No no, please, don’t worry,” Dan said. “It’s okay.”

“If you’re sure…” you said. “But…yeah, after, I can drive you to your hotel or…wherever you’re staying.” Dan looked down, with the expression that seemed to mirror how awkward you felt around him all the time.

“I…kinda…didn’t get a room, either…”

“…I hope you don’t find this rude…it’s still gonna sound totally rude, but…you really didn’t plan ahead, did you?”

“Well, Nora—”

“Ah. Okay. That’s all you need to say,” you said, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Of course it was Nora.” 

“Well, she said she’d take care of everything,” Dan said, as though trying to defend her. ‘I didn’t know that she meant only the plane tickets.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, frustration towards Nora laced in your voice. “She absolutely did this on purpose because she wants us to spend more time together and—”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“You know what I mean.”

“She ‘ships it’?”

You chose to ignore that comment.

“…well…my car and my place are kind of really a mess so…”

“I work with Arin and Ross. You can’t be as messy as those two and also me.” As he said this, the two of you began to walk out of the lobby towards the parking lot. “And don’t feel like you need to…like, stand on ceremony or whatever. You’re absolutely free to change into…whatever will feel most comfortable. I totally get it.”

“Right, because a black dress and tight spandex are the same thing,” you said with a slight scoff.

“Well…and don’t take this the wrong way but…don’t most concert ladies wear, like, tights or Spanx under nice dresses?”

“No offense taken,” you laughed. “Your point, however, is. Now come on. We have a pizza to pick up.” You unlocked your car and hurried to the passenger side to open the door for Dan. “I hope you don’t mind if we don’t listen to music.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m the same,” Dan said, stepping in as you went over to the driver’s side. “Kinda need to relax your mind after so many days of concert.”

“Would you be…I don’t know, up for a movie too?” you asked as you turned your car on. “Not, like, in the theatres, but…just watching something at home.

“Sure. Anything in mind?”

“Well…you don’t know what ‘Suspiria’ is, so…would you be okay with that? It’s one of my favorites.”

“I dunno…is it scary?{“ Dan said. “It sounds scary…it sounds suspirious.”

“Enh…I’ve watched scarier…”

***

“You lied to me woma—OH GOD NO!” Dan screamed as the camera cut to the shot of the knife being stabbed right into Pat’s still-beating heart. 

“Oh my god, you’re such a wimp,” you laughed as Dan’s shrieks reached the volume and pitch of Pat’s friends as Pat’s head sunk in the cracks of the plate glass window. The subsequent crashing of the glass to the floor made Dan flinch so violently that the (thankfully empty) pizza box went flying. You reached out to steady him so he didn’t fall off the futon. “Oh my god, this is SO not the worst or even that scary.”

“Says you!” Dan said, mouth agape in horror as Pat’s blood-streaked body hung from the rafters.

“Please, the blood is too vibrant to look real,” you said.

“Oh, yeah, this movie is stylized and fucking gorgeous but JESUS,” Dan shrieked once more ad the camera panned over to Pat’s friend, who’d been pinned to the ground and vivisected by large shards of glass.

“Well…there won’t be any more gore for a while, so just calm yourself, bro,” you said.

“Can’t calm…scary…” Dan whimpered, tucking his feet underneath him and balling himself up on the futon. You rolled your eyes and shifted over to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“There there my scared grown-ass manchild,” you soothed. Dan whimpered further and reached up to ruffle his hair down in front of his face. “Hey, come on, there’s nothing bad even happening right now. Jessica Harper’s getting introduced to the building and the ballet mistresses.” Another whimper. “Come on…she’s pretty.”

“Not pretty enough,” he said. “You’re prettier.”

“Shut up, I am not.”

“Yes you are. You can sing.”

“She can sing, too,” you said. “Just watch ‘Phantom of the Paradise’.”

“Is she an opera singer?” Dan asked, uncurling a little and looking at you.

“No, and neither am I,” you said, brushing some of his curls back away from his face to get a better look at him.

“But…your voice is so pretty,” he said. “Like…those are some really high fucking notes you can hit. And your voice isn’t…like…heavy or whatever you think of with, like, stereotypical opera singers or sopranos. It sounds so effortless.” You felt your face heat up again.

“I can assure you it’s not,” you said. You still felt yourself smile. “Effortless, that is. Or pretty.”

“But it was pretty!”

“I didn’t think so, but…I’m my own worst critic. Always think I was too sharp or too flat or…whatever.”

“You were awesome,” Dan insisted, reaching up for your hand as it brushed another curl back. “I’m really glad Nora—”

“And I’m sorry about that,” you interrupted. “I hope you don’t feel like she made you come here. I was really fucking presumptuous of her and I intend to give her a good talking-to.”

“No, not at all, I…I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I came. I didn’t know how much I’d wanted to until she asked what I was doing…well…this weekend.”

“Still…I…shit, I’M the one who should’ve invited you,” you said. “But…I don’t know, I guess I assumed that you’d be busy Grumping or…well…shit, it’s classical music.”

“I…don’t hate classical music,” Dan said, with a little laugh.

“Still, it’s BENJAMIN BRITTEN,” you said. “He’s…he can be an acquired taste, Pretty discordant at times, with weird difficult intervals.”

“I mean…yeah, but…I still liked it,” Dan said. “I mean, lord knows I don’t know a lot about classical music or this composer of requiems or…fuck, who was the poet again?” He looked down to see where he’d put his program and try to reach it without leaving the futon.

“Wilfred Owen,” you said. “British poet. Fought in the First World War.”

“Right, right…I mean…okay, yes, I’ll admit, some of the music was a little weird and maybe not totally my jam, but…it was also beautiful,” Dan said. “And kinda really fucking epic sometimes.”

“Yeah, the fucking…Dies Irae and the Sanctus still give me chills,” you said. “No matter how many times I sang it, have heard it, or ever will hear it.”

“It was really awesome,” Dan said again. His hand had found its way around yours, and he gave it a light squeeze. You smiled and looked down, bashful once more.

“Of course, this means I need to return the favor one day,” you said, staring at your joined hands. “Come to an NSP concert or something.”

“No obligation at all,” he said. You opened your mouth with the intention of saying something, but it morphed into a yawn.

“Sorry,” you said as it finished. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

“Well…if you want to or need to go to bed early or…now, I don’t know, or just hole up in your room…but that’s fine,” Dan said. “Don’t feel like you have to stay awake for me, I can just…turn this fucking movie off and watch cat videos online.”

“I was actually gonna take the futon,” you said. Before Dan could argue back, you held a finger up. “My bed is a lot bigger than the futon, and you’re a lot taller than me. The futon won’t be comfortable for you no matter what, I know that.” Dan still wanted to argue. Your finger moved closer until you were pressing a line against his lips. “No. Shush. My apartment. My rules.” Dan frowned against your finger. “You’re just gonna have to deal.” You removed your finger from his mouth and poked the end of his nose.

“Ugh, you’re so insistent,” he groaned. You lightly pushed him and stood.

“I’ll put some fresh sheets on the bed for you real quick,” you said, moving towards the armoire where you kept extra bedding.

“Dude, no, that’s not necessary,” Dan said, standing. “I can just sleep on top of the covers.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll just borrow this blanket,” he said, picking up the one that he’d been hiding under throughout the duration of the beginning of the film.

“Okay…but…if you change your mind, let me know,” you said. “I really don’t mind. …I’ll also put a fresh towel in the bothroom for you, in case you want to shower. I won’t judge if you don’t.” You shrugged. “I don’t even shower every day. But I read somewhere that I think you’re not supposed to.”

“Enh, if we wake up and you think I smell godawful, I’ll shower, but…” Dan also shrugged.

“What time is your flight tomorrow?” you asked.

“Not till mid-morning, early afternoon-ish,” Dan said. “We won’t need to wake up early or anything.” You nodded, moving towards the bathroom to rummage for the promised extra fresh towel. “Will you need anything from your room before I go to sleep in there?”

“No, I’m good,” you called as you reached on your tiptoes for a mossy green towel.

“And you’re absolutely sure you don’t want me to sleep on the futon?” Dan asked again.

“Absolutely,” you said.

“Okay.”

There was a moment or two of silence (well, silence between you two while the movie played in the background) as you walked back into the living room and sat on the futon next to Dan. More silence as you two watched the movie without really watching it. Eyes in the direction of the screen, but not really focused on it.

“Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to offer to share the bed?” you finally asked, turning to look at him. His eyes were still in the direction of the screen.

“Do you want me to ask?” he asked. “Would you say yes?”

“…no…and no,” you said.

“So okay,” he said, turning to look at you. “Didn’t need to.”

“…I’m sorr—”

“Don’t be. I didn’t ask because I know you don’t want to. …I know I kinda fucked up a couple weeks back. The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable. Any more than I already have.” It was his turn to hold a finger up to stop you from speaking. “You don’t need to explain anything. Not if you don’t want to.” He poked the tip of your nose.

“I do…just…not now,” you said. “When we know each other better.” Dan nodded, smiling reassuringly at you. Before you turned back to the movie, you asked one more thing. “…you still gonna ask if I’ll be your valentine?” He raised his eyebrows. “I mean…February is coming up and…lord knows Nora’s gonna be asking me if you’re gonna ask me, given that she’s already tried to get us in bed together the first night you visit me.”

“I’m sure shared bedtime wasn’t her intention,” Dan said. “I mean, granted, I don’t know her well, but…I think she just wanted a friend to come support a friend.”

“Yeah, you DON’T know her well,” you repeated. Dan laughed at your emphasis.

“Still…and…it is a couple weeks away…” Dan said, slow and careful. “If I did ask you to be my valentine…would you say yes?” A pause. Not for you to respond; you had the sense that he wanted to say something else. “Not…like…asking for a date – like, a DATE date. Or for you to be my girlfriend or any of that shit. Just…if I do ask you…be my valentine…wil—would you say yes?”

The two of you had turned back to the TV screen at this point, as a male ballet dancer whose character was never fully fleshed out in the film flirted awkwardly with Jessica Harper. Oddly endearing.

“Maybe,” you said, after a time. Jessica Harper and the boy smiled at each other. Dan’s hand brushed against yours. Not taking your own hand, but keeping his fingers rested against your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback welcome and appreciated.


	22. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pancakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PANCAKES. (rule of three.)

“You were not kidding about these pancakes.”

“What, that they’re ridiculously delicious or that they’re the size of your head?”

“YES.”

You laughed as Dan took another overzealous bite of blueberry pancake, at a local diner you visited at least once a month. You were still slathering your own pancakes with butter. Well…vegan butter.

“Kinda hilarious to watch you order the vegan pancakes and then immediately follow that with bacon and eggs,” Dan commented mid-chew.

“Yeah, but they’re really fricking good,” you sighed. The diner always had vegan options on hand. This included pancakes. Their flavors of the week rotated, and this week, they were serving their out-of-this-world vegan vanilla pancakes. “They’re more cake than pancake, honestly.”

“And definitely more cake than pan,” Dan added. You looked up at him.

“Nice,” you said nonchalantly. “That was almost like humor.”

“Ouch. Stab me in the pancake, why don’t ya?”

“Nah, I’d rather stab my own.” And stab you did…well…slice with knife and fork into neat little shapes. You brought a first bite up to your mouth and consumed. You closed your eyes as you entered cakey vanilla-y bliss.

“Oh my god…they’re so good every time,” you moaned, causing Dan to giggle. “Shut up, the moans of a female are not unfamiliar to you.”

“Yeah, but usually in a WILDLY different context,” Dan laughed.

“Well, here, you have a bite,” you said, cutting another line of pancake. From underneath your eyelids, you could see Dan leaning in for a bite. You shook your head, trying not to smile at the coy look in his eyes. “You’re a grownass man, you can feed yourself. Hand me that saucer?” Dan leaned back, pouting, but lifted his cup of coffee and slid the empty white dish over to you. You placed two small rectangles of vanilla pancake on the saucer and handed it back to him.

“This is way less fun than having you feed me,” Dan grumbled.

“Would you rather I chewed it for you first and then spit it into your mouth, birb-style?” you asked innocently.

“Ew, god, no, you’re right, I’m a grownass man, I can feed myself,” Dan said quickly as he took the saucer and set it to the side of his own plate of half-devoured blueberry pancakes. He forked one of the rectangles you’d cut for him and ate, chewing for a moment.

The moan HE then made was enough to garner looks.

“Dan, there are children present,” you hissed, reaching over to cover his mouth.

“I can’t help it, it’s so good!” he said from underneath your palm. You quickly pulled your hand away, for fear of it getting covered with Dan-spit or masticated pancake.

“I know, I told you, right?”

“Oh man…vegans got it made,” Dan said, an expression of utter contentment on his face. He then waved his fork in the direction of his own plate. “You want a bite of blueberry?”

“Only if you can bear to part with it,” you said. “I mean, I can come here whenever, but…who knows when you’ll be back down here again.”

“Still…you shared your food with me,” Dan said, cutting you triangles from his own pancakes and sliding them on to the saucer. “It’s the least I can do for you.”

“Well…in comparison to everything else you’ve done this weekend…yeah,” you said as you took the saucer. “I mean…don’t get me wrong, I AM glad you came. I just…didn’t expect it. …gotta have a talk with Nora after next rehearsal.”

“I’m sure her intentions were good,” Dan said, taking a bite of the home fries he’d ordered on the side. “Besides…I’m glad I came down here, too.”

“Mostly for the pancakes?” you joked.

“Sure,” Dan said, rolling his eyes.

***

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me at least hoof half the bill,” Dan grubled as you drove.

“Dude, I had a gift card,” you argued for the umpteenth time. “It covered the whole thing, now will you shush about it?”

“Fine…we ARE talking over your lovely voice, anyway.”

“Dan, it’s a choir CD, you’re not missing anything.”

“No, I’m able to tell which exact voice from the hundred-odd voices is yours.”

“Suuuuuuuuure.”

You two laughed into a silence that was then filled with a choir performance. Something from one of the Christmas concerts when you were in college. One of the acappella ones.

“Oof…” you winced, as you reached a certain point in the song. “We went so sharp every time…”

“It still sounds pretty,” Dan said.

“Yeah, but it’s SHARP.”

“Well…if it’s sharp, that only means you and the rest of the choir were trying your best to keep it IN pitch,” Dan offered. “As opposed to singing flat, which can sometimes come from not trying hard enough, or just being lazy.”

“I guess….”

“It’s still fun to listen to. For me, anyway. I get to hear you sing more! YAY!”

“You’re such a dork…”

Within a few minutes, you were pulling up to the entrance of the airport. You popped the trunk as Dan opened the passenger door to step out of the car. You hurried over to help him get his bag, glancing over your shoulder and hoping a security guard didn’t think you were taking too long before driving away.

“Text me when you land? And get home?” you said.

“Yes, promise,” Dan said as he took the handle of his luggage from you, his fingers lingering against yours. Another silence.

“What is it with us and airports?” you asked, for lack of anything else to say. Dan laughed.

“I don’t know.” He moved to take your hands, as he had the first day you’d met. “…think we’re at the hugging stage of our friendship now?”

“…yes,” you said, glancing down, suddenly shy. Dan gently pulled you to the side, to step away from the suitcase that separated you. Then he stepped forward. Instinctively, your arms went up to warp around his waist as he hugged you. You rested your head against his shoulder, him being too tall for your head to meet the side of his. He was content to rest his chin on top of your own head.

Two years ago or something, you figured that hugging Dan “Danny Sexbang” Avidan would have put you in a state of shock. Because you had been lucky enough to hug one of your favorite celebrities, the one that you always kind of crushed on in spite of yourself.

But the first time hugging Dan Avidan, your friend…as cliché as it was, it felt old hat. Like something you’d done many times before, instead of for the first time. Like you’d known him for years instead of for a month.

You could very easily have hugged him for another hour or so…but there were more cars approaching the airport entrance. So you let go.

“Have a safe flight,” you said. Dan smiled.

“Have a safe drive home,” he said. He took the luggage handle with one hand and held yours in the other. Both of your arms stretched as far as they could, straining your hands.

“Oh my god, dork, will you just go?” you laughed. “You’ve got, like, an hour of security line ahead of you.”

“FINE,” Dan laughed. “Point taken. …talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

With that, he turned and walked towards the entrance. He turned and gave you one last smile and wave before the automatic doors shut behind him.

You quickly stepped back into your car and drove off. Back towards home.

The car was still quiet. But an emptier quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback welcome and appreciated.


	23. Sucker for a Good Baritone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's been listening to Firefly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (It's me. I've been listening to Firefly.) (You should too.) (It's really good.)

“Hello?”

“So I listened to Firefly for the first time four days ago and I’ve barely listened to anything else since.”

“…should I be offended that you didn’t check it out until four months after its release?”

“Dude, I had holiday concerts and then the war requiem. Pretty much when stuff like that is happening, I don’t listen to anything except what I’m singing.”

“Really?”

“Well…sometimes other recordings so I can get a feel for how other groups have performed the songs, sometimes recordings of our OWN rehearsals so I can make notes for sectionals.”

“Makes sense…I guess?”

“Point is…Firefly.”

“Yes. What about it?”

“I still can’t figure out how it’s supposed to relate to the Serenity.”

“It is not about the show, ya doof.”

“Hey, that is MY name for you. Ya doof.”

“Well, don’t be a doof, then.”

“Fine, Captain Tightpants.”

“Excuse me, little missy?”

“What? If your alter ego was a space captain, that would ABSOLUTELY be his moniker.”

“That is beside the point.”

“Guess you’re right. The point WAS that there’s a reason I’ve been listening to it for four days straight.”

“You’re picking it apart to find everything wrong with it?”

“…yes, Dan. I am that cruel. I’ve never loved your voice.”

“I knew it. You saucy broad.”

“Seriously though…I’m a little in love with your lower register.”

“Well—”

“NO, that is not an innuendo. I mean the lower pitches in the song. Like in ‘vast-divided skies’ and such.”

“Really? THAT’S the part you’re in love with?”

“No—well…partly…it’s a side of your voice I haven’t heard a lot of before. Like, you’re good at getting those higher notes and belting and everything, but…the baritone-y-ness is refreshing. New. Shows the range of your voice.”

“Thanks…I guess?”

“Absolutely, guess. I’m a sucker for a good baritone. Like Patrick Stump. Okay, he can belt like a mofo, but in the rare instances when he shifts into baritone, THOSE are my favorite moments.”

“I’m gonna pretend I recognize the name.”

“Fall Out Boy.”

“DANCE DANCE!”

“Yes, Dan..ce Dance.”

“I see what you did there.”

“I’m also in love with the chord structure in ‘Firefly’. Like…all the aaaaaaaah-ing.”

“Yeahm, chords are fun. Not fun recording them, but…”

“Like, singing them into a mic, or rewriting the chords themselves?”

“What”

“Re-chord-ing.”

“I swear, I’m gonna get you and Ross together so you can have a pun-off. Whoever garners the loudest groans wins.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“Oh my god, you’re adorable…”

“Thanks.”

“…you’re blushing right now, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“I just…noticed you tended to do that whenever I complimented you after the requiem.”

“Well…I’m not used to compliments.”

“Liar.”

“Okay. I’m not used to compliments coming from a conventionally attractive internet celebrity who is also one of my favorite singers.”

“Ooh, conventionally attractive? Aw, you DO have a crush on me! My feelings are finally returned!”

“Dude, come on. It’s aesthetic attraction. The appreciation of the way a thing looks.”

“Still, you totally think I’m cute.”

“I also think babies and kittens are cute, but I don’t have crushes on those, either.”

“But your crush on me still stands?”

“Who said I had a crush on you?”

“I did. Just now.”

“You are mistaken. Well…in that sense…I’ve had, like, the biggest friend-crush on you for forever.”

“Friend-crush?”

“Like, I wanna hang out with you more and make you watch scary movies and laugh at you when you get scared and stuff. Like, all that stuff you said about meeting someone you want in your life for the rest of forever? That.”

“…never really heard of it put that way before. ‘Friend-crush’. I like it.”

“Yeah.”

“But, I mean…all that stuff can also apply to a romantic relationship, right?”

“It can, but it shouldn’t have to. Like…pretty much any time a cis guy and a cis girl hang out or are friends, the thought from a lot of other people is gonna be ‘I ship it’. Romantically.”

“True…I get that on Instagram sometimes…”

“Also, that time when you and Dodger waqs a ship, because according to you, y’all ‘looked at each other in a video’?”

“Yeah…”

“Society doesn’t help…like, back to Firefly, the show, Mal and Inara. That tension between them where you know that, had the show not been cancelled, they would’ve gotten together. Even if they HADN’T had that tension written into the show, that would’ve been the fan’s endgoal.”

“I sorta see what you mean by that…Mulder and Scully too?”

“Yep. And Castle and Beckett. …man, that’s two against Nathan Fillion character.”

“Characters?”

“Nope. Character. We all know Castle is basically Mal in a different show.”

“Still, Nathan Fillion is a good actor.”

“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s just been in stuff that I have issues with.”

“Makes sense.”

“…sorry I kinda went on a tangent there. I do that sometimes.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I like your tangents.”

“Well…you’re free to tangent at me, too. About…Def Leppard or whatever.”

“Noted for future talks.”

“Sweet. I don’t know enough about classic rock. Or should I say the oldies?”

“Ouch. Kick a man when he’s down.”

“Kidding. I kid cause I friend-crush.”

“That’s…not how the saying goes.”

“Yeah, but if I went by that, you’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“Truth.”

“Anyway, all I wanted to say is that Firefly your song, not Firefly the show, is awesome, I can’t stop listening to it, your baritone moments are lovely, and I need to go listen to it for another five straight days.”

“Best compliment I could ever receive.”

“Yeah right. What if Def Leppard called up and said your voice was the bee’s knees?”

“…okay, ya got me there.”

“Knew it.”

“I’ll let you go, then.”

“Thanks for indulging me in the fangirliness for a while.”

“It never seems like an indulgence on your part when I talk to you. If anything, it’s equally as indulgent for me. I LIKE talking to you. Fangirl or no fangirl.”

“Yeah…well…”

“You’re blushing again.”

“I’m hanging up now, jerk.”

“Bye, friend-crush.”

“Bye Hulk-smash.”

“FRIEND CRUSH!”

“Ya doof.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	24. PACKERS WIN THE SUPERBOWL!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PACKEEEEEEEEERS, WOOOOOOOOOOO!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I kinda had to.

“Hello?”

“Congratulations, Dan!”

“…what?”

“I saw that you won the Super Bowl all by yourself! Congratulations!”

“Oh, thank you! You’re definitely not the first person to tell me that!”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Also, I didn’t know you listened to NSP. I thought only my older stuff.”

“I…don’t, but I saw the gif on tumblr. It was adorable.”

“Ah. Okay.”

“…I hope you’re not offended. I’m sure NSP is good. It’s…just…not my bag.”

“Music style?”

“Subject matter. …I’m sorry. I kinda feel like a jerk now.”

“No, no, don’t, it’s okay. You’re still my favorite fan of other things. And also, not all classical music is my bag either, so I guess we’re even.”

“True. I’M not even a fan of all classical.”

“Cool! I’m not a fan of all my voice singing things.”

“No way, me too! My voice, that is.”

“But your voice is awesome!”

“As is yours.”

“This is gonna go nowhere, isn’t it?”

“Seems that way, Super Bowl man.”

“Oh my god, I did not win the Super Bowl.”

“You’re right. …Packers did.”

“PACKERS WON THE SUPER BOWL, WOOOOOOOOO!”

“Please, if you’ll all just return to your drinking!”

“Now, we all know why we’re here.”

“Yeah, PACKERS, WOOOOOO!”

“Honey, Packers won the Super Bowl!”

“PACKEEEEEEERS, WOOOOOOO!”

“Oh my god, I IMMEDIATELY have to watch that episode again.”

“Me too, dude.”

“Ooh, maybe that can be our Valentine’s thing! That is…if you still wanted to maybe be my Valentine.”

“Would we just…watch it separately but, like, be on the phone while we did or something?”

“….yeah…I haven’t quite figured out the logistics of our Valentine’s yet.”

“Well, I still haven’t said yes or no.”

“Are you gonna?”

“Well, I have to say one of those two, eventually.”

“You don’t HAVE to. You could say ‘zesty and delicious’, for all I know.”

“True. I could.”

“…are you gonna?”

“Zesty and delicious. Are you happy now?”

“Incredibly. You have made me a very jovial man.”

“I’m so glad.”

“…we’re both very silly, aren’t we?”

“Just a little. But hey. That’s why we’re friends.”

“That’s why we’re snuggle buddies.”

“We’re snuggle buddies because I like scary movies and you cower in fear of them.”

“Hey, I will always need to hide myself in your arms as you watch your horrible horrible death films.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a wimp.”

“Yeah, but I’m YOUR wimp.”

“Not really, you aren’t. You just wish you were.”

“Yeah. I do. And I wish I was your Valentine. Why must you toy with my heart in this way?”

“Dan, come on…I’m hardly toying with your heart. You’re toying with your own heart and claiming your hands are mine as they toy.”

“I guess you’re right. But I can’t help but be melodramatic sometimes.”

“Truth.”

“Well anyway…you will get back to me on the Valentine’s thing?”

“At the very least, we WILL talk that day.”

“I’ll take it! I’ll take twelve!”

“You’ll take maybe one and like it.”

“Yes ma’am. Jeez, so bossy.”

“Not really.”

“I like it.”

“Jesus Christ, you never stop, do you?”

“I can…I mean…yeah…I know I take shit too far…can’t help it sometimes though…”

“Fun to tease me?”

“A little.”

“Yeah…”

“…want me to hang up?”

“No. …not unless you want to.”

“…I kinda feel like I should. I feel like a jerk now.”

“You’re not a jerk. I’ve just got a lot of…whatever…that you don’t know about yet.”

“Yeah.”

“…soon. Maybe. Whenever I see you next.”

“Okay.”

“…I actually need to hang up now. Going over notes with Nora soon.”

“Okay. Have fun choir-ing.”

“Have fun not choir-ing.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	25. All Aboard the ___________ Train!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grumps need to record the things for Valentine's Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, a chapter that isn't all dialogue.

Dan stepped out of the Grumpspace with Arin, after a few hours of recording new Portal 2 episodes. Suzy had texted Arin mid-Grump-session to inform them that she would be home with sushi in five minutes. Sure enough, when they got to the communal space, everyone sat around the table with bento boxes in front of them.

“How goes the grumping?” Ross asked as he struggled to get the chopsticks in his hand in the proper position for picking up slices of sashimi.

“Well, it’s Portal 2, so I’m barfy as always,” Dan said, sitting next to Barry and reaching for his own sleeve of chopsticks.

“Well, you get a break from that the rest of the day,” Suzy informed him. “We gotta record the Valentine’s stuff so Barry and Kevin can get a headstart on editing before Sunday.”

“Yaaaaaaaaay Date Grumps,” Arin cheered as he wrapped his arms around Suzy, kissing her cheek.

“Ross, you and Holly gonna do Love Train again?” Dan asked.

“Yeah, she’ll be here soo—okay, seriously, can I get a fucking fork?” Ross had thrown his chopsticks on the table in frustration.

“Barry was up for Singles Train again,” Suzy said. Barry, who’d just taken a bit of cucumber roll, nodded and thumbs-upped his agreement.

“Cool,” Dan said, trying not to sound hesitant. Based on Suzy’s slight frown, he wasn’t very good at hiding it.

“Something you wanna tell us, Dan?” Arin asked slyly.

“Yeah, why don’t you wanna Singles Train with me, roomie?” Barry asked with a false pout.

“Guys, come on…” Dan sighed.

“This have anything to do with Prickly-Do girl?” Ross asked. “Like, are you two a thing now?”

“Ross, shut up.”

“That’s not a no! Dan has a girlfriend maybe!”

“Ross, I’m gonna fucking shove your chopsticks down your fucking throat if you don’t fucking shut up.”

“But I need my throat for things!”

“Seriously, Dan, is that the reason you seemed so…not up for Singles Train?” Suzy said, trying to get back on topic.

“Ye—no—well…um…come on, do I REALLY have to talk about this with everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Ross. Chopsticks. Seriously.”

“Shutting up now.”

For a few minutes, everyone stared at their sushi and sashimi, eating small bites and occasionally coughing or sniffling after accidentally taking a bit with too much wasabi. Dan would glance up conveniently at the same time of the other members of the table, who obviously turned their eyes away as though they hadn’t been looking at him.

“…okay, fine. I may or may not have asked her if she wanted to be my valentine,” Dan finally said. “She hasn’t said yes…but she hasn’t said no. And I don’t know if…well, if she says yes, if that means we’re sort of a thing. And if she says yes and I do a Singles Train episode, claiming I’m single on Valentine’s Day when now I’m NOT, what if that upsets her?”

“I’m sure she’d understand,” Suzy said.

“Well…I don’t know…” Dan said, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “She…hasn’t said outright…fuck I don’t even know if I feel comfortable talking about this, honestly, I feel like I’m betraying her.” 

“None of us are gonna talk about any of this on any of the shows,” Arin said, serious and promising tone to his voice.

“I know, I know…just…” Dan broke away, ducking his head and trying to think of the right way to word things. He looked up. Everyone was watching him with seriousness. “I just don’t want to break her.”

“…her heart?” Ross asked.

“No, just…HER. Anything of her. Like, not even in a romantic sense, in a FRIEND sense. Like, I’m so FUCKING happy I met her and that she’s in my life now, and I don’t wanna mess any of that up and lose her.”

“Dude, you keep saying ‘in a friend’ sense, but…I dunno, I really think you like her,” Ross said. “Like…like that.” Dan made frustrated noises. “Dude, that’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah, I know, but…”

“So do you?”

“Ross, stop badgering him,” Suzy said, kindly but firmly. “Dan, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

“This is so fucking stupid,” Dan said, more to himself. “I shouldn’t have said fucking anything. Should’ve just done the fucking Singles Train.”

“Dan, it’s not stupid, come on,” Suzy said.

“How about you go about…the dilemma…in a roundabout way?” Barry suggested. “Like…tell her we’re planning to record Singles Train today. And see what her reaction is. Like….just casually mention it. I’m pretty sure you two text…what, all the time? Like, she’d probably respond within fifteen minutes?”

“Um…” Dan checked his phone. “I don’t think she has rehearsal right now so...”

“Okay, so give it a shot,” Barry said brightly, patting his shoulder.

“We’ll clean up, and Suzy and I can get started on Date Grumps,” Arin said, standing up. “That’ll give time for Holly to get here and for you to figure out your sort-of-love life.”

“Thanks, Arin,” Dan said, with a tinge of sarcasm. “You’re a real friend.” Arin gave him the most shit-eating-est grin he could muster.

“Good luck, buddy,” Ross said, quickly running away before Dan could invoke mild bodily harm upon his person.

As everyone got up to clean up and get back to work, Dan thudded his head on the table. The past several minutes were nothing he’d ever wanted to happen ever. Mostly because it just confirmed all the confusion he knew he was already feeling, but stubbornly refused to acknowledge.

He sighed, and picked up his head and phone, scrolling to his text history with you.

“Hey. Recording stuff for Valentine’s Day. How’s choir stuff?”

There. That was a good start. Go casual at first. …and also, he was always genuinely curious about your choir goings-on.

He stood and picked up his now-empty sushi tray and went to the kitchen to toss it. As he opened the refrigerator to grab a water bottle, he felt his phone buzz. Your name lit up the screen.

“Choir stuff is choir-y. What Valentine’s Day stuff are y’all recording?”

Dan couldn’t help but smile at your use of “y’all”. Fucking adorable.

“Arin and Suzy, Date Grumps of course. Barry’s giving me angry face right now and motioning for me to help him choose a game for Singles Train.”

Not a complete lie. Barry was sitting at his computer with Steam open, and giving Dan a look. Not an angry one – more curious. Dan walked over and showed him the screen; he hadn’t sent the text to you yet.

“Sounds good to me, buddy,” Barry said with a shrug. Dan glanced down, thumb hovering over Send for a moment, before pressing down on the screen. The message loaded its way to you. “Now come on, let’s choose a game so I don’t have to make angry face at you anymore.”

“Shut up, dude,” Dan said with a giggle. “Besides—”

“Yeah, I know might not happen, but hey. We can always choose a game for…like…tonight when we get back to the apartment?”

For the next few minutes, the two browsed through the many MANY titles Steam had to offer. Most of the dating sims sounded absolutely hilarious, and really, reading the synopses out loud in the most melodramatic voices they could muster was proving to be more fun than choosing a game. Proving to be enough fun for enough time to pass that Suzy and Arin finished the first game for Date Grumps.

“Dude, so do you have a Valentine or not?” Arin said.

“Oh…”

“Yeah, she text you back?” Barry asked. Dan took his phone out of his pocket. You HAD texted him back – about ten minutes ago. He must’ve been laughing too hard to feel the vibration of his phone earlier. He slid your notification open.

“Well, I won’t hold you longer. Go help Barry choose a game. Don’t make your roomie angry. Have fun recording! Can’t wait to hear the new ep!”

Dan read it over again, then looked up at Barry.

“All aboard the Singles Train,” he said with a small smile. Barry returned the smile.

Dan wondered if his smile also had that little bit of sadness Barry’s seemed to have. And he wondered if it would be too telling to ask Barry not to pity him.

Really, though, there wasn’t anything to pity. The two of you WEREN’T a thing. You didn’t want that, Dan was pretty sure. And he didn’t want that, either.

…that last thing, he was less certain about. 

There was no reason to be hurt. To feel rejected. 

And yet, there was a tiny bit of him that felt just those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	26. Ellipses: The Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am way too fond of the ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this on Valentine's Day. So as a Valentine's Day present...I'm unlocking this story. non-registered users can read and comment again. I apologize for the locking before; it was always meant to be a temporary thing. Happy Valentine's Day. Slow burn for all.
> 
> Also, I'm not kidding about the ellipses. They are the thing I overuse most in writing.
> 
> Also also, another title change. Hopefully, people still recognize which story this is. And if so...thanks for sticking around. For the slow slow burn.

“Hello?”

“Happy Sunday!”

“Thanks, Dan. Not the ‘happy whatever’ I was expecting you to say, but…”

“You mean Super Bowl, don’t you?”

“…yes. Exactly, Dan.”

“I get you. I’d love to win the Super Bowl again all by myself, but that’ll have to wait until next year.”

“Seriously though, how awesome would it have been if Super Bowl Sunday and Valentine’s Day had been the same day?”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Yeah, did I just blow your mind?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Hell yeah I did. Your mind has been thoroughly fellated.”

“OH MY GOD.”

“You’re free to keep that as a possible NSP song title.”

“Thanks! That’s the best Not-Super-Bowl-Sunday gift I ever could have received!”

“You have abysmally low standards of gifts, then.”

“Enh, whatever.”

“So…what’s up?”

“Not much. Just…wondering what you had planned for the night.”

“Not much. Folding laundry once it’s dry, and I’ve got dinner cooling in front of me right now.”

“Ooh. What dinner?”

“Trader Joe’s soup dumplings.”

“I didn’t know they made soup dumplings.”

“Oh man. They are the bomb diggety. They’re SO good, Dan.”

“They SOUND good. I’m a sucker for soup dumplings.”

“And a sucker OF soup dumplings.”

“True. The way you have to poke the dumpling and let that sweet, sweet soup fill the spoon…”

“I don’t know what soup dumplings YOU’VE been eating, but the soup is not SWEET. It’s rather savory.”

“You know what I meant, lady.”

“Also, you’re totally gonna write an NSP song about soup dumplings, too, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m certainly gonna try.”

“You could call it Wanton Wontons.”

“…wait, Wonton Wontons?”

“No, ‘wanton’ as in ‘lustful’, ‘wontons’ as in ‘dumplings’.”

“Ooooooooooohhhhhhh…”

“Yeah. Regardless of which of those words, things are gonna get hot and steamy.”

“OH MY GOD. You’re so fucking brilliant.”

“I take absolutely no credit. I saw that on tumblr many many moons ago…”

“…so how ARE your soup dumplings.”

“I’ve been waiting for them to cool, hold on…okay, I think they’re cool enough now.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, either that, or I’m about to burn all my taste buds off my tongue.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“Welp. Down the hatch.”

“…”

“…”

“…how are your taste buds?”

“Awash with flavor. Delicious gingery flavor.”

“Ooh…gingery…”

“Also, I totally don’t eat soup dumplings the way they instruct you to. I just pop the whole thing in my mouth and experience a soup-splosion all at once.”

“And I have more material for the song!”

“If this keeps going, I will have to demand a co-writing credit.”

“Don’t know if Brian will like that.”

“Well, Brian can go fuck himself.”

“Oh, schnapity.”

“So…what are YOUR plans for tonight? Listening to me eat soup dumplings?”

“Well…”

“Dude, you have some WEIRD-ass kinks.”

“I do not have ANY ass kinks.”

“You know what I meant, ya doof.”

“Well, I meant well…only in the sense that…you know, if we were closer together…like, in the same city…I’d maybe swing by your place and ask if you wanted to go out and get something to eat.”

“Sweet of you.”

“Because…it’s the holiday.”

“…yes, it is.”

“…I can’t tell…like, it seemed at some point that…if I asked you to be my valentine, you were gonna say yes, but…then you said have fun with Singles Train and…”

“Whoa whoa whoa, dude, saying yes to being your valentine has NOTHING to do with your single-tude or not.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I know—”

“Like…dude, we’ve NEVER even talked about that. I mean, you’ve flirted, but I’ve always figured you were joking.”

“I was, I swear, but—”

“Then…I’m sorry, I probably sound like such a bitch right now, but—”

“You’re not a bitch, come on.”

“…I just want to know why you would make that assumption.”

“…that you’re a bitch?”

“Dan, fucking…be serious, please. It sounds like you’re trying to be anyway.”

“I’m sorry. …but you’re not one. And you don’t sound like one.”

“…you’re not answering my questions.”

“Well…you’re not answering mine.”

“What questions?”

“About being my valentine.”

“Dan, I said ‘maybe’. That is an answer.”

“It was an answer for then, not an answer for now.”

“Dan, what would be the point? We’re NOT in the same city. We’re not in the same state, the same time zone, the same…Dan, come on.”

“The point is, I’m…I’m not going to say I WANT you to be my valentine. That sounds too possessive. But…I’m still asking you if you’ll be my valentine.”

“…you still want me as your valentine, though. Your saying that you’re NOT saying that is the same as you saying that.”

“I…sorry, that last sentence confused me. It’d probably make more sense if I was looking at it.”

“Dan, why the fuck are you so adamant about this?”

“Because maybe I like you. Like…more than a friend, like you. And I’m hoping you’ll say yes to being my valentine and maybe going on an actual date with me and maybe being more than friends at some point and maybe I don’t care about the distance and maybe I’ve liked you a little bit like that ever since we met but I’ve been fighting against that because…shit like that doesn’t happen. Love at first sight. It DOESN’T happen. It’s for rom-coms and Polygrumps and…but…running into you, LITERALLY running into you…I don’t know, makes me feel like maybe it is a little.”

“…Dan…”

“…I’m so sorry. That’s so much more than I meant to say and—”

“Dan just…give me a minute to process…”

“…okay.”

“…and eat my soup dumplings.”

“…right. Before they get cold.”

“Yeah.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…I am sorry. I didn’t mean for all of that to come pouring out.”

“…Dan, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s…it’s not.”

“DAN…really…it’s okay.”

“But…this is either the part where you never want to talk to me again or the part where…”

“…I open the door and find you standing on the other side, soaking wet because it’s raining outside?”

“What? No! Fuck no, that’s…creepy as shit.”

“Yeah. Also, it’s not raining here.”

“More importantly, it’s not raining there.”

“Yes. …you also think…what, it’s the part where YOU open the door and find me standing at the door and before you can say anything, I’ve launched myself at you and kissed you?”

“…no…?”

“…good, because THAT would also be creepy. Given that you’ve never told me where you live or where the Grumpspace is.”

“Truth.”

“…seems like, no matter what the reaction on my part, you’re afraid of this ending like a Hallmark movie.”

“Yeah because…shit, it’s VALENTINE’S DAY. Like, the most fucking cliché day I ever could have chosen to tell you all that…and I didn’t even fucking mean to…”

“Were you just gonna let it fester within yourself?”

“…I don’t know. I think I was hoping I just got caught up in the holiday.”

“Are you?”

“…no…I don’t think so.”

“…okay.”

“…okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I believe you. That you…like me like that a little.”

“You do?”

“I mean…you’ve been showing your hand, no matter how jokingly, with all your fucking flirting. And…fuck, Dan, we were holding hands the very first day we met.”

“…yeah…”

“…I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Well…I kinda feel like I antagonized you into telling me all of that on accident. Because…you’re right. I was avoiding the question. About being your valentine.”

“…okay.”

“…I’m saying yes to the valentine.”

“You are?”

“Yes. In that…I don’t know, if we were in the same place, and you stopped by and wanted to ask me out to dinner for the holiday, I’d say yes and maybe dress up a little and maybe we could watch a movie afterwards.”

“A horror film?”

“No...something we both liked. Or at least something godawful so we could make jokes throughout the whole thing.”

“Ant Farm Dick Hole?”

“Maybe not that. I was thinking more like Birdemic.”

“Perfect.”

“Or…wait, what the hell was our original plan? Snuggle and National Treasure?”

“YES, oh my god…you’re right…”

“Snuggle and National Treasure.”

“…you’d really let me snuggle you?”

“Dude, I’ve snuggled you when you got scared at Suspiria.”

“But…knowing what you know now?”

“…Dan, I’ve mentioned before that I’ve got shit in my past. It…it is related to why…I was so hesitant to say yes. And why I’m…saying no, in other respects.”

“Okay.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“No, please…don’t be. And…don’t feel pressured to ever tell me before you feel comfortable telling me. I won’t…I’d never…in any way, shape or form. In any respect.”

“...thank you.”

“I just…I was so afraid this meant no more friendship.”

“That was never out of the question, Dan. Never. Not at all. I was afraid, too. That…me saying no meant you would never want to speak to me again, either. That…if you couldn’t have me that way, then you didn’t want me at all.”

“Never. Fucking never.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“…for the record, I would accept pressure from you in the form of Queen and David Bowie, OR Billy Joel.”

“Oh…HELL yeah, Billy Joel.”

“He’s the fucking man.”

“Fuck yeah, he’s the fucking PIANO man.”

“My parents saw him in concert a few months ago and – place was fucking sold out, of course – but he said ‘I don’t know why you’re all here, I haven’t had a new song since Clinton was president’.”

“Shit, man.”

“But you know…when you reach an artist of his caliber and his respect, you don’t really NEED to keep churning out new songs. Like…don’t churn out stuff your heart isn’t completely to try and make others happy.”

“Makes sense. …though it would kick ass if he decided to release a new album.”

“Oh FUCK yeah.”

“Favorite Billy Joel song?”

“Oh shit…I sorta have a soft spot for ‘Allentown’. Or as I called it when I was little, the SHEE-HOO-HAH song.”

“Oh my god, that’s adorable.”

“I also love Uptown Girl and The Longest Time.”

“Good ones…but he has a LOT of good ones.”

“Hell yeah…”

“…I want you sooooooo bad, I think you ought to know that I intend to hold you for the looooongest time.”

“Aw…a serenade from Dan Avidan. You’re sweet.”

“Well…you’re my valentine.”

“And you’re mine.”

“Do I get a serenade?”

“…give me a minute to think of a song…”

“Something classical?”

“Of course. I can’t sing anything else well.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“Also, I haven’t warmed up at all, so this may be a bit shite.”

“Again, doubtful.”

“Okay, here goes…Bel piacere e godere fido amor! Bel piacere e godere fido amor! Questo fa contento il cor, questo fa contento il cor, fa contento il cor! Questo fa contento il cor, questo fa contento il cor, fa contento il cor!”

“…”

“…that bad?”

“Shut up, no. Beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“No idea what it means, but…beautiful.”

“Yeah…for all you know, I could’ve been singing ‘I would like sweet and sour chicken, please’.”

“Best opera ever.”

“Doubtful.”

“Well…”

“Well. …Happy Valentine’s Day, Dan.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“…Anything fun this week?”

“Well, MAGFest, so…nope.”

“Oh, you jerk.”

“Kidding. MAG is gonna kick ass.”

“Aw, have fun.”

“You?”

“Choir stuff. Per uzhe.”

“Uzhe?”

“Short for usual.”

“Ooooooohhhhhh.”

“Well, have fun at MAG. Sing well.”

“Wish you could be there.”

“You’re not even there yet.”

“Well…still…sentiment will be the same then as it is now.”

“You’re sweet.”

“…I’ll let you go now.”

“Only if you want to. I mean…I’m a little afraid I’ve disappointed you tonight with…well…”

“Not at all. You still wanna snuggle and National Treasure with me.”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

“So…that’ll be a thing that happens sometime.”

“It will. …I just know…well, you were probably hoping for…like, a goodnight kiss or something.”

“…Valentine’s Day fistbump?”

“…ya doof. Is that gonna be our holiday thing?”

“It is now. Every holiday.”

“Well, then, tomorrow we’ll need to exchange a President’s Day fistbump.”

“Yes. Good.”

“So…hell yeah. Valentine’s Day fistbump.”

“Fistbump.”

“…but if you also decided to be a complete dork-a-doofus and kiss my hand like oldentime shit…I wouldn’t object.”

“Really?”

“I’d call you a dork-a-doofus, but I wouldn’t object.”

“Cool.”

“I’d also hug the shit out of you.”

“I’d hug the shit out of you too.”

“You give really good hugs, by the way. I don’t know if I ever told you that after the airport.”

“Same here.”

“Well…”

“Hug, then kiss on hand. With an overexaggerated bow and some sort of poetical shit.”

“At which I roll my eyes say ‘ya doof’ in that affectionate way I have.”

“Then I’d watch you walk to your front door and wait for you to get safely into your place because I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Sure it’s not to watch the sway of my hips?”

“Well…maybe that too, but mostly the safety thing.”

“Then I’d turn and give you one last wave and a smile before I closed the door.”

“And then I’d drive away and probably text you when I got home. Something like ‘can’t wait to see you again’.”

“And to that, I respond ‘…dude, I cannot WAIT to get inside your asshole’.”

“OH GOD NO!”

“Hell yeah. Stealing Arin’s line.”

“I THOUGHT YOU AND ME WERE FRIENDS!”

“We are!”

“Okay…I’m hanging up now before you going any further.”

“Fine, Dan. …Goodnight, valentine.”

“Goodnight, valentine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	27. What Happens at MAGFest...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...usually involves going to Nando's at least once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of MAGFest starting tomorrow.

“Hello?”

“Hey. It’s Dan.”

“Hi, Dan. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to let you know I’m in my hotel room at National Harbor.”

“Oh, for MAGFest?”

“Yep. Also…sort of forgot to tell you when my flight took off and when it landed.”

“Shame on you.”

“I know, I KNOW, I forgot to send you the Ben Folds and such.”

“Well, it’s okay. At least I know you’re safe in your hotel room.”

“Um, I’m with Brian, so clearly, I am NOT safe.”

“You know what I meant, ya doof. Any problems at the airport?”

“No—well, not really. Security took for-fucking-ever, but for adorable reasons.”

“Adorable reasons?”

“Yeah. There was a family with a very small girl, maybe Audrey’s age or slightly older. And she was running up and down the empty security lines at the beginning until her parents reached the rest of the line. And once that happened, she sat down. Like, straight up sat down with her little baggie of Cheerios and refused to move for a while. Not, like, crying or anything, but…just happy where she was.”

“That DOES sound adorable.”

“It was so fucking adorable…”

“Did security frisk you?”

“You fucking know it.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, what with your hair.”

“Oh, the Jewfro had to be scanned separately.”

“My god.”

“But for serious, nah, no problems. Why, do I seem like the suspicious type?”

“No, you seem like the type who’d want to get frisked on purpose.”

“No, that’s my Sexbang side.”

“Ah, right.”

“You ever have troubles with being frisked?”

“No, not really. Although one time I was wearing some super dangly earrings which the machine didn’t like, and they had to pat down my shoulders.”

“My god.”

“I know. Earrings, as we all know, are the most dangerous of things.”

“Yeah.”

“…actually, yeah, depending on the earrings, they can be REALLY hard on your earlobes, if they’re heavy enough. Earrings like that can be exhausting to wear.”

“Interesting.”

“Oh, it’s nothing but.”

“Well, I like the way earrings make people’s ears look pretty.”

“Like mine?”

“ESPECIALLY yours.”

“Dork. So, excited for MAGFest?”

“Hell yeah, it’s gonna kick ass.”

“What’s your schedule like?”

“Q&A tomorrow, concert Friday, autographs Saturday.”

“Ooh, better spaced out than last year. When the autographs and Q&A were back to back.”

“Yeah—well, probably more so for the fans. I totally get that.”

“Yeah. Because now people can camp out for six-plus hours for BOTH things, as opposed to having to choose one over the other.”

“Jesus, so much camping out and missing other panels.”

“Well, maybe, but that’s ‘cause they really like you.”

“Would you be one of the camping-out peoples?”

“Dude, if I didn’t have work, you know I would be.”

“Aw…wish you could be here.”

“Me too. I owe you a night-after-the-concert surprise or some such shit.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“Like damn I don’t.”

“Come on, we’re friends, we’re not gonna play the owing-each-other-shit game.”

“I’ll play whatever game I so choose, Dan.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Up to and including Bridge, Hearts, and Pinochle.”

“Wow. Antiquated card games much?”

“You bet your sweet bippy.”

“We need to get you on Table Flip.”

“Oh yeah, a random classical singer who does jack shit with video games.”

“Ooh! Brian just got back with Nando’s!”

“Oh, fuck yeah, Nando’s.”

“You’ve had Nando’s?”

“Dude, I’ve BEEN to MAG before. I have absolutely eaten my weight in Nando’s garlic bread.”

“I shall endeavor to eat as much garlic bread as I can in your place since you’re not here.”

“Mail some to me.”

“That would be gross.”

“Yeah, it would.”

“Enjoy your Nando’s.”

“Will do. Wish you could be here.”

“Wish I could be there, too.”

“B—wait, BRIAN, SHUT UP.”

“What?”

“Brian’s being a douche and demanding I get the fuck off the phone.”

“Tell him Prickly-do says fuck you.”

“Happily!”

“Have fun. Bye.”

“Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	28. What a Great Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the MAGFest NSP/TWRP concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That concert apparently kicked ass.

Dan kicked the door open further, the only thing in his mind to get the hell out of his Sexbang attire at fast as possible and collapse for twelve hours’ sleep before autographs the following day.

Brian, who was right behind him and taking his mask off, apparently had other ideas.

“Hey, Dan, someone’s gonna stop by in about five minutes to drop something off,” Brian said. “One of the staff or something. So…maybe don’t get naked yet.”

“Fine,” Dan said, muffled by the pillow his face was pressed into as a result of flopping his gangly frame on to the bed. “Just wake me up when they’re gone.”

“…dude, your phone’s lighting up,” Brian said. Dan turned his head and, despite his head being sideways, he saw the glowing rectangle that was his phone. Dan sighed, pushed himself up from the bed, and shuffled over to the desk. Brian walked away, his own phone in hand, texting with one thumb as he carried things toward the bathroom.

It was a text message notification from you.

“Hey. According to the MAG schedule, NSP concert was tonight. How did it go?”

Dan smiled, in spite of his exhaustion – from the con and all of its chaos, from performing, from not having enough time to turn OFF for a minute. He slid his thumb across your message to respond to you.

“Hey. Concert was fun. Felt good. I think everyone thought it was good as well.”

He closed his eyes as he yawned, but blinked them open as his phone lit up again. Another message from you.

“Have to agree with everyone there.”

…wait, what?

Dan turned his head as he heard the knock on the door.

“Hey Dan, I’m busy with shit, can you get that?” Brian called. Dan rolled his eyes, but put his phone down and turned the doorknob. Granted, he should’ve looked through the peephole to make sure it wasn’t a rando stalker who’d found his and Brian’s hotel room number, but Dan was too tired to think with too much sensibility.

…and he was pretty sure he was also too tired to see things clearly because the person standing at the door looked an awful lot like you.

A somewhat disheveled you whose eyes mirrored a tiredness Dan was feeling…but you nonetheless.

You. Smiling.

“Oh my go—”

Dan couldn’t even finish. He just pulled your wrist and pulled you into him, into a tight hug. One that, to his delight, you returned.

He honestly felt like crying. Maybe that was the tiredness talking, but…

“How are you here?” he finally asked, pulling away from the hug and taking your face in his hands. “I thought you had work!”

“I did,” you said, taking his hands away from your face and holding them tight. “But EARLIER this week. Flew in this morning so I could surprise you.”

“Well…consider me surprised,” Dan said, so tired but so not unable to smile. He couldn’t help but hug you again. You made a little surprised sound, but laughed and hugged him back, just as tightly.

“I’m sorry, I normally wouldn’t but…oh my god, it’s so good to see you,” Dan whispered.

“It’s good to see you too, ya doof,” you laughed, but not unkindly.

“So…you really liked it?” Dan said, pulling away after many long moments. “The concert?”

“Yeah!” you said. “It was really good. You could tell y’all were having a lot of fun.”

“Thank Christ, I was waiting for you two to break it up,” Brian said, emerging from the bathroom, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Wait…you knew she--?” Dan began to ask.

“Dude, how do you think she’s here?” Brian said. “We’ve been conversing about shit ever since I answered your phone that one day.”

“Really? About what?”

“Fucking with you.”

“You WOULD say that, Brian.”

“Seriously though, it’s…a bit of a secret,” you said. “For now. Nothing bad, just…”

“…okay,” Dan said, sounding a bit suspicious. And also, having to cut himself off with a yawn.

“I echo that sentiment,” you said, also beginning to yawn. “Y’all look really tired. Happy and funhaving…but tired.”

“Yeah…” Dan said. “And this fucker’s snoring doesn’t help matters.” Dan gestured towards Brian with a glare.

“Y’know, if you’re so fucking sick of my fucking snoring, why don’t you spend the night with her?” Brian suggested.

“Hey!” Dan said. “Don’t foist that idea on her!”

“It’s be fine with me, though,” you said. “Since it’s just me, I have this MASSIVE king-sized bed, so…I mean, I only use maybe a quarter of it.”

“…only if you’re really REALLY okay with that,” Dan said, still unsure.

“I really really am,” you said. “And also, Brian would probably kick you out otherwise.”

“I wasn’t gonna, but now that you’ve given me the idea—” Brian said with a playful smirk.

“Let’s go NOW, of my own volition, before Brian makes the decision for me,” Dan said, taking your hand.

“Wanna change first?” you asked, tugging him back. “I mean…not that the costume isn’t fun but…it can’t be THAT comfortable.”

“…yeah, you’re right,” Dan said. “Conspicuous, too…”

***

“I can’t believe you actually got all your hair tucked up into that hat,” you said as Dan flopped down on the bed in your hotel room (which was, in fact massive and king-sized.) 

Dan just groaned. You laughed and reached over to take the hat off.

“There. I have freed the mane,” you said, ruffling the top of his head. Dan groaned again and turned over.

“I may not even change,” he said. “This bed is sooooo comfy and fuuuuuuuck MAGFest is fun but EXHAUSTING.”

“I believe you,” you said, ruffling his hair again. “I’m just gonna wash my face and probably not change either. I mean…traveling was a bit of a bitch.”

“Yeah, if your airport security was as bad as it was when we met…” Dan said. You rolled your eyes, but smiled and walked away, to the nook where the sink was.

“So did I miss anything else fun? How was the Q&A panel?” you asked before turning the water for the sink on.

“The fucking fire alarm went off during the Welcome to MAG panel, apparently,” Dan called over the sounds of splashes. “Like, apparently during the panel. It for sure went off.”

“Oh shit!” you laughed, turning the water off.

“But the panel was fun, too,” Dan said. “Lots of people. Lots of questions.”

“I bet the people who’d been lined up for your panel really hella early just kinda went ‘GODDAMN IT’ when the fire alarm went off,” you said, voice slightly muffled by a towel as you dried your face.

“Oh my god…I mean, I admire their dedication, but jesus…” Dan said, yawning again and shifting on the bed. “Dude, you better hurry up, I’m about to fall asleep.”

“Dude, I’m done and right about at that place too,” you said, walking over and kicking your shoes off. “You don’t have to wait for me if you want to go ahead and sleep.”

“Yeah well…if you wanted to catch up or anything…” Dan said.

“We can talk about shit and catch up tomorrow,” you said, slipping under the covers on the opposite side of the bed. “You’re very tired, and I’m very tired. Sleep is more important.”

“Yeah…” Dan said, yawning again. He pushed the covers down with his feet and pulled them up over his body. He settled into the covers and pillows, turned towards you, and closed his eyes. “Good night.”

“Good night,” you said, reaching over to turn the lamp on the bedside table off and settling in, still facing the table.

“ ‘m glad you’re here,” Dan said sleepily.

“You too,” you said sleepily.

“ ‘m glad I’m here too. No fucking Brian snoring and oh my god this bed…”

“I know, right?”

“…do you snore?”

“Dan, go to sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	29. MAGFest Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting those you didn't expect to meet at the convention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barry was at MAGFest. And according to instagram, a certain Pomeranian...
> 
> (I don't know about this chapter...but the next chapter will be better. maybe.)

The next morning came all too soon, in a very unwelcome wake-up call from Brian. Dan groaned at the sound of a phone going off. You, without opening your eyes, reached over towards the night stand and picked up your phone.

“Hello?” you mumbled.

“I need a Dan,” Brian said. “And you have him.”

“Jesus Christ, Brian, you woke us up,” you said, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

“Night was that fun, huh?”

“Shut up, you were as exhausted as we were and you know it.”

“Yeah, well…Dan and I gotta get some logistics shit done before autographs so…maybe kick his ass out of your bed and send him on his way?”

“I’ll have him over to you when the fuck ever,” you said, turning to look at Dan, who was groaning more.

“Tell Brian to fuck off,” he said, muffled by the pillow.

“Dan says to fuck off,” you relayed.

“Tell him he needs to fuck off his way the fuck here.”

“…no. That didn’t make sense.”

“Just—”

“Yes Brian I know I know, I’m hanging up now, fuck you.”

You dropped your phone back on the night stand with a clatter and fell back on to the bed.

“I fucking hate him,” Dan said, rolling over in the bed.

“I know you do, honey,” you said, reaching over to pat his head. “But you do have fans who will be very unhappy if you sleep all day.” You pushed yourself back up and pulled the covers away from him. “I’ll make you some coffee, okay?”

“Do they have tea?” Dan asked, rolling over to face you, eyes heavy with sleep.

“Maybe?” you said, glancing over at the nook that held the coffee machine and all the necessary fixings. “If they do, I’ll make that.”

“Mmm…thank you,” Dan said, blinking sleepily, but smiling.

“You need to get up though and get ready to head out,” you said, poking the tip of his nose. He turned his face away and moaned a little. You lightly slapped his cheek. “For the fans, Dan.”

“Noooooooo,” he whined. “Wanna sleep here and spend the day with you.”

“No good, Sexbang,” you said. “You’re not the ONLY reason I’m here. I’m gonna hit up the marketplace, maybe attend some panels and shit.”

“Fine,” Dan said, pushing himself up to a sitting position, head still hanging. You leaned over to rest against him.

“Hey, come on…once you get some tea in you, you’ll be fine,” you said, giving him a loose hug. He didn’t hug back, but leaned more into you. “Don’t you fall asleep against me.”

“But you’re so comfy…”

“The bed is comfier. But don’t fall asleep on that, either.”

“Will you be there for autographs?”

“Dude, come on…”

“Fine.”

“I’ll go make your tea. Or coffee. Whatever they have.”

You squeezed him and pressed your cheek against his before moving off the bed.

***

Very much later that afternoon, after a few hours of walking around the marketplace and buying way too many adorable plushies, you were in your room, catching up on your email. Emails about schedules and sectional notes with Nora, emails about The Last Unicorn with Brian, a shit ton of junk email…

You paused as your phone buzzed next to you. You glanced over at it, away from the email you were drafting for Nora. It was a message from Dan.

“Hey. Free for the night. You should come over and meet some people.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled as you slid the message open.

“And what if I’M busy tonight?”

“Are you?”

“…no. But I could have been, Mr. Presumption.”

“True. I will ask instead. Would you like to come over and hang out and meet some people?”

“Sure. Be there in ten.”

You took your time to finish your email to Nora, then shut off your laptop. After you tucked it at the very bottom of your suitcase, you grabbed your purse and headed out the door.

***

“Oh. You.”

“Nice to see you too, Brian,” you said as he opened the door to let you in.

“Well, you DID tell me to fuck off a LOT this morning,” Brian said.

“I apologize profusely for that.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Really? That easily?”

“I can be nice.”

“Suuuuure…”

“Um…hi?”

A familiar-from-the-internet, unfamiliar-in-real-life voice filled your ears. And you turned to see a somewhat confused Barry Kramer.

“Oh! Hi!” you said with a smile. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“I didn’t know you were here, either,” Barry said, still looking confused.

“She’s Prickly-Do girl,” Brian offered as you stuck your hand out to shake Barry’s. You gave Barry your actual name and told him it was very nice to meet him in person.

“So you’re a friend of Dan’s?” Barry confirmed.

“Yes. Speaking of, where is he?” you asked.

“Over here!” Dan called, from behind the other side of the bed. You laughed.

“Dan, what the hell?”

“I have a surprise!” Dan said happily. You walked over. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, in front of cream-colored waffle-fabric dog bed. On said dog bed, there lay a white Pomeranian, dozing.

“Puppy!” you exclaimed.

“Yep,” Dan said, scratching the Pomeranian’s head. “Princess Tinkles came to visit.” You knelt on the floor to set yourself next to Dan.

“Aw…she’s so precious,” you cooed. Princess Tinkles blinked slowly as Dan continued to scratch her head. You reached your hand over in front of her nose. She leaned over and sniffed your hand before licking it a few times, then settling back down in her place.

“Yay, she likes you!” Dan said as you reached over to stroke her back. “Then again, she sorta likes everyone.”

“Ouch,” you said as you reached up to scratch behind her ear.

“My two favorite girls…”

“Really, Dan?” you said, looking up at him. “Pretty sure you forgot your mom, Dana, Granny Sexbang, Suzy, Holly—”

“Take the fucking compliment, why don’t you,” Dan said, nudging you. “You’re still one of my favorite girls, regardless.” You looked up at him. He smiled at you, nudging you again. You nudged him back.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, looking back down at Princess Tinkles. “Aw…who’s a sleepy puppy…” You continued to scratch her head as she seemed to fall asleep. As you did, you felt Dan lean against you. “Oh god, Dan, not this again.”

“What? I’m sleepy again and you’re still comfy,” Dan said. His mass of hair tickled your neck, and you gently pushed his head so he was no longer unintentionally tickling you.

“Barry, Brian, Dan’s falling asleep on me,” you called. “Can y’all pick him up and move him to the bed? I’m not doing this shit again.”

“Again?” Barry asked, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. Dan straightened up.

“Yeah, he totally spent the night at her place,” Brian said. “I had to wake-up call them. They were still so tired from the night before.”

“Brian, remember when I told her to tell you to fuck off?” Dan said, glaring at Brian. “Still fuck off. Muchly.”

“Nothing actually happened, Barry,” you said. “Brian’s just being a fuckwit.”

“Yeah, well…he does that,” Barry said with a shrug.

“I was simply giving Dan sanctuary away from Brian’s apparent breeder-hog-like snoring,” you said.

“He DOES snore like a breeder hog, I’ll give you that much,” Barry said with a nod.

“Brian looks like he’s ready to kill the both of you,” Dan laughed.

“Brian always looks like that,” Barry said, waving Brian away. “So…are you staying the night here then in return or…?”

“And subject her to Brian’s snoring?” Dan said, mocking affront. “What kind of monster do you think I am?”

“So then…Dan, are you gonna stay with her again or…?”

“Wouldn’t that look suspicious?” you asked. “I mean…yeah, you kinda disguised yourself last night but…I don’t know, I don’t want people to think you’ve got a ladyfriend when you don’t.”

“But you’re a lady and you’re my friend,” Dan said, leaning against you again.

“You know what I meant,” you said, rolling your eyes. “People will think we’re…whatever.”

“And that’s a problem?” Brian asked. “Wouldn’t women line up to be linked to Dan in that way, even falsely?”

“Brian, shut up,” Dan said, a bit more harshly than you expected. You looked down and stroked Princess Tinkles’ head again.

“Come on, Brian, let’s crack open that alcohol the fans gave us earlier,” Barry said in a peacemaker-y kind of way.

“If you’d rather I stay here—” Dan began.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, still ducking your head. “You can again if you want. It’s fine with me.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…I know Brian was joking but…”

Dan pressed his cheek against yours and hugged you.

“We’ll talk tomorrow…I promise,” you said. 

“Hmm?”

“Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	30. Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talks. They are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, this totally isn't based on shit I actually went through, what would give you that idea?
> 
> Slight trigger warnings for discussions of emotional abuse/manipulation/etc.

The promise of what you had to explain hung over the night and the following day, though both you and Dan did your best to ignore it. Watching Rifftrax on Hulu, ordering room service in the form of pancakes, sleeping for eleven hours (not twelve, but close enough), walking around the harbor...

The best distraction came in the form of a sculpture the both of you found in the sand on the water. A man drowning in the sand. A crooked knee, giant bearded screaming head, a foot, an arm, fingertips...

"I don't think this is how Ozymandias went but...look on my works, ye mighty, and despair," you quipped. Dan laughed, then ran over so he could play the part of the man drowning in the sand. 

"AHHHHHHHHH!" he cried out, limbs flailing. "QUICKSAAAAAND!" You were surprised the pictures you'd taken didn't come out blurred, because Dan was making you laugh so hard the camera was shaking. 

After a stroll into Nando's for some chicken and (for you) a whole bunch of garlic bread, the two of you were back in your room. 

"I could live off this bread for the rest of my life," you said between bites of the crispy buttery bread. 

"It is good, but I don't know if it's THAT good," Dan said. 

"Absolutely it is," you insisted. "Plus the garlicky reek will help keep all the creepy randos away."

"Aw, but no one will want to kiss you with garlic breath!"

"A: surely that's someone's kink somewhere. And 2: that is the opposite of a problem for me."

It was a sort-of segue into what needed to be said. 

"Oh?" Dan said. You knew he was more curious than he was letting on. You finished the rest of your current slice of bread, wiped your face and hands with a napkin, and finally looked up at him. 

"So...you said some things on Valentine's Day," you said. "And...I didn't. I've been hinting at it for weeks. And..."

You broke off with a sigh, looking away from him. 

"I'm sorry. I just...I don't like talking about all of it and...I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"About trusting you." You held a hand up to stop him from speaking. "I know, I KNOW you're gonna say that I can trust you but...well...the first point leads to the second point."

"...okay," Dan said. You heard the clatter of plastic silverware being set down on the desk. You felt the edge of the bed next to you sink as he sat next to you. You felt slight heat from his arm next to yours. 

"...it was a few years ago," you finally began, still not looking at him. "I...met this guy. It started out as friends but...he got really flirty, really quickly. It was sort of all new to me - I'd never been very popular in high school or college, but then again, I was also usually too busy for that sort of thing. But anyway...after a month of knowing him, I'd fallen. And I was scared of telling him because everyone I'd ever crushed on before never liked me back. But...he said he wasn't scared. And I asked if he felt the same way, and he said he did. And then...he kissed me."

You paused, shaking your head and laughing a little. 

"That should've been my first warning," you chided yourself. "He never actually said he liked me. Just 'yes I do' or 'you know how I feel'. Never actually stating it out loud. 'I like you'." You gave Dan a quick glance before looking back down at your hands. "In that respect, you're already a better man than him. Though that's not a hard feat."

Dan reached for your hand, to hold it comfortingly, but you scooted away.

"Please, just..."

"Okay...okay," Dan said. If he was hurt, he didn't sound it. 

"It was a very...physical thing," you continued. "What I had with him. Well...not VERY physical, by today's standards, I guess, but...for me, it was. It was my first relationship...I thought. ...if I'd known, I wouldn't have let him get as far as he did."

You paused, closing your eyes, willing back tears. 

"He began to grow distant," you said, voice shaking. "After a time. And I had to ask him if we were still together, and he said...he said he'd never been aware that we WERE together. He hadn't known I'd felt that strongly about him. He thought I was just 'being super flirty'. His words...not mine."

You swallowed past the lump of your throat. You still couldn't look up at Dan. 

"So i asked him if he'd ever liked me romantically. He said it was complicated, it wasn't black and white yes and no, but if i had to have an ultimatum...then no. He never had."

Dan made a sound in the back of his throat. You looked up to see him covering his mouth, eyes hard. 

"Sorry, just...trying not to say things about him," Dan said. 

"Oh, it gets worse," you laughed, shaking your head hard to once again will tears back. "Because not even a week after that fell apart, he announced his relationship with another woman." The tears finally came. "Of course...I got angry. His idea of an 'apology' was 'I'm sorry I couldn't help who I fell for, but God, she's just something else, I've never been as happy in my life as I am with her'." You wiped the few tears away, then slapped yourself. "Sorry. Every time I have to tell myself he's not worth the tears but..."

Dan reached over to wipe another tear away, but drew his hand back as he remembered how you'd reacted to him trying to hold your hand. You smiled at him, drying your face.

"That relationship didn't last either," you said. "According to him, she was manipulative but...I doubt it. I think he was the bad party. Then again...given what he did to me, I think I'm a little biased."

"I wouldn't doubt if it was his fault, he sounds..." Dan paused. "I need Arin to articulate better names for him. That's how angry I am at this guy right now."

"He's not worth the anger, Dan," you started. 

"No," Dan said, a little forceful. "He hurt you. He led you on. He made you cry." You looked down. 

"I was convinced for years that it was all my fault," you said. "That I'd done something wrong to make him not like me anymore. That I hadn't done enough with him to make him still want me." Once again, a quick glance at Dan, then back down. "It never got...THAT far. But...I'm gonna put it this way. If I'd known he never liked me, I never would have let him get under my shirt."

You ducked your head more, almost down to your knees. 

"I'm not proud of myself," you whispered. "Not for that."

"It's still not your fault," Dan said. "You trusted him. And he took advantage of that." You nodded. 

"He always said, how have you never been kissed before, I would never stop," you said, still not looking at Dan. "He also had a thing for kissing my bare shoulders...that's why I freaked out on you that one day, when you kinda joked about it...brought back bad memories." You sighed. "I did trust him. Completely."

"...I think I get it now," Dan said. "Maybe not entirely...I mean, I can't live that part of your life and know exactly what it was like but...I understand a little better now." You looked up at him. 

"Please promise me you won't tell anyone about this," you said. "The only other person who knows is Nora. And...honestly, any other time I've tried talking about it, his friends come down on me. Call me the bad guy. Say I'm the one who manipulated and abused him. ...he's good at convincing people he's never the guilty party."

You looked down again. 

"It gets me paranoid," you confessed. "That I AM manipulative. That...even saying this to you is emotional manipulation to get you on my side. But part of me knows that that's what he wants me to think, that I'm--"

"You're not," Dan said, sitting closer to you. "I promise you're not. And I promise I won't tell a soul. It's not my place to tell anyone any of that."

His knuckles were brushing against yours. You looked up at him. 

"That's part of why I'm scared," you said. "Because...I can feel myself liking you...and I can feel myself trusting you...but I'm terrified the same thing will happen again, and I know, I KNOW that you'll say you'd never do that, and I know it's not fair of me to assume you'd be capable of doing that, but I can't help it." You felt tears running hot down your face again. "I can't help it. He broke me more than I already am."

You looked away and hid your face from Dan so you could sob. And you didn't want him to see you as you did. You bent over into yourself and cried, trying to hide more into yourself to shelter yourself from Dan. Trying to ignore his hand running over your back, his quiet shushing, his calm "it's okay's". 

"You're not broken," he assured you several times. "You're not."

"But I am," you sobbed. "Not just from that."

"Shhhhhhhhh, it's okay," Dan soothed, his hand never leaving your back, tracing all over, trying to bring you comfort. 

You weren't sure exactly how long this went on. But once you bent back up, Dan's hand disappeared almost instantly. He shifted away to give you space he wasn't sure you wanted or not, and you reached for the tissue box on the night stand to blow your nose. 

"That's attractive," you snorted as you honked again into a tissue. 

"It's okay," Dan assured you with a little laugh. "It's okay."

"Yeah, well..." you sniffed. "As I said...that's part of it."

"Okay," Dan said patiently. 

"The other part...and it took me a long time to realize it...is my...well, my sexuality," you finally said. "I'm...asexual. And aroflux."

"Aroflux?" Dan asked. 

"Sort of...up and down the romantic spectrum," you said. "Most of the time, aromantic, sometimes...I don't know, I guess I want a relationship sometimes? But...it's never steady. And usually it never lasts - the wanting."

"Okay."

"And asexual...it's not just that...I'm pretty much...well...sex-repulsed."

You let out a deep sigh. That felt like the hardest thing to say out of everything. 

"I mean...okay...I let...HIM get as far as he did but...I never fully enjoyed it," you tried to explain as best you could. "Like...I could feel something in me strengthening, some ...desire, I guess. But I hated the feeling. It terrified me. Like...I was feeling so much that it was going to kill me. And...I don't know, the idea of myself actually HAVING sex just...it squicks me out."

You pause to shudder, and you were sure Dan saw you wince. 

"I mean, it's not like I haven't tried, in ways," you continued. "I've run across some not-safe-for-work shit on tumblr and...yeah, I'm glad that makes other people happy but it just doesn't look fun for me. And...parts...and bits are just..."

You couldn't help but laugh a bit. 

"They're so funny looking," you exclaim before you can stop yourself. "I mean, I honestly don't get the appeal at all. Like...looking at a penis and going YES. I want THAT in me."

It was Dan's turn to laugh. 

"It's true...dicks are a little ridiculous," Dan said. "Oh, fuck...ri-DICK-culous. I fucking walked right into that one."

You both laughed, in spite of what exactly you were confessing. 

"I know...and I apologize," you said. "I know most cis men are very proud of their penises."

"Yeah, well..."

"I mean...it's nothing against you. At all. It's just...it's not just you that I look at and think...nah, I can't see myself doing the do with that person. It's everyone. I've even tried...well...by myself. But I just never felt anything when I tried. It just felt like...fingers."

You duck your head from blushing. 

"I mean...I think I'm okay telling you all of this, I mean, you've been as frank about your sexual life on Game Grumps so..."

"I hope you didn't feel like you HAD to tell me all of that," Dan said. 

"No no,it's okay, it's just..."

"Again, I'm not gonna tell anyone."

"It's not that. I'm just..." You looked up at him. "I'm waiting for you to say 'Okay. I don't like you anymore. This is a major dealbreaker'. And I don't mean I think that's what you're thinking but...if you're looking for someone to share your bed with I'm that way...I'm not that someone. I don't know if I can ever be. I don't even know about--"

Dan held a finger up, in front of your lips, but not touching them. 

"It's okay," he said, almost whispering. "It's not a dealbreaker. You're still you. You've always been you. This is just...more you that I'm learning about. I still like you. All of you."

"But...what if you won't?"

"Even if I don't always like you the way I do now," Dan said, "I will be upfront about that. I won't lead you on. And hopefully, that won't stop us from being friends forever. Because honestly...losing you from my life completely would suck a lot more than not being able to date you. And I will never pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with. Not even something as little as holding your hand. If you're okay with things then...okay...but if you're ever uncomfortable because of me, please don't be afraid to let me know. I will stop immediately. And if I've ever done anything in the past that made you uncomfortable...I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Not unless you want me to."

You looked up at him. His eyes were shining, his smile soft. 

"You haven't," you said. "Only that once with the shoulder thing and...you backed off immediately. You knew. I know. I...I think I can trust you. I want to. But...I'm sorry if I can't completely yet. I'm still scared."

"It's okay," Dan said, brushing his fingers against yours. "but you're not broken. Not because of him, and not because of you. Your asexuality doesn't make you broken."

"I just feel it sometimes," you said, looking down at your fingers against his. You shifted so your fingertips pressed against his, not holding his hand, just...resting yours against his. "And...if you ever meet someone that you...it's fine with me." You looked back up at him. "Fuck buddies or...whatever." Dan nodded, but frowned. 

"Okay...um..." His fingertips pressed against yours. "I don't know if I'M entirely okay with that...I'll need to think about that one...I mean...yeah, I like sex, but..."

His hand shifted to hold yours tightly. He looked at you. 

"I think I like you more."

Your breath caught. You searched him for any trace of a joke. None could be found. 

"You say that now," you said, looking down, squeezing his hand. "You'll get sick of your hand eventually."

"Enh, I'll switch hands," Dan said. "Or stock up on whatever the hell ever." You snorted laughter. You couldn't help it. Dan joined you in your laughter. You leaned against his shoulder. 

"So...this is a thing now?" Dan asked. 

"Yeah...I think so..." you said, moving your hand to intertwine your fingers, squeezing his hand.

"Cool...so you're good if I say I really like you like that?" Dan said. 

"Yeah...because I really like you like that too."

"...is it okay if I kiss your forehead?"

"...yeah, I think so."

A soft warmth pressed against your temple for a long while. You closed your eyes. 

"Good?" Dan asked. 

"Good."

"Cool."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	31. Making it Official

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It officially has been made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the previous chapter overwhelmed me. Had to step back for a bit. Thank you all for your support and kind words, both for the story and otherwise. And thank you for continuing to read this ever growing ball of fluff, dialogue, and whatnot.

You'd returned to the boys' room that evening to watch something all together. Dan and Barry wanted something fun. You wanted horror (and by extension, Brian wanted horror to make Dsn squirm).

You all compromised with the Rifftrax Live of Night of the Living Dead. 

"Yeah, how is this in the top ten of Bravo's 100 Scariest Movie Moments again?" Barry asked you. "It's...pretty tame."

"By today's standards," you said. "Back then, it was a big fucking deal. Like, shit that comes up late in the film was shut that did not happen in films. I'll mention those things when we get to them."

"But for now, we have to watch Baldy McAngryface over here become ever more disgruntled," Dan said, reaching over your shoulder to snag some Pocky. 

"Keep your hands off my Japanese treats, Dan," you said, batting his hand away. Dan pouted at you. You rolled your eyes and held up the box. "Would you like some Pocky, Dan?" Dan smiled and nodded. 

"Thank you," he said sweetly as he took a couple of chocolate-covered biscuit sticks. 

"Pocky game! POCKY GAME," Brian demanded. 

"Brian, shut up," Barry said, focused on the computer screen. "We're missing valuable riffs!"

"We're missing nothing at all, just the two obviously-not-teenage teenagers having a moment," Brian scoffed. Sure enough, on the laptop screen, the film featured the two young lovebirds of the film share a very quick and somewhat passionless kiss, though the music would have suggested otherwise. 

"Aw, that's sweet," Dan said, leaning against you a bit more. You rolled your eyes but leaned back further into him. 

"Ain't gonna be so sweet in about five minutes," you said slyly. 

"Woman, let me enjoy the moment before scary shit happens," Dan said, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you closer. You rolled your eyes again, before getting an idea. You sat up a bit and turned your head to stare at him. 

"They're coming to get you, Dan," you sang, doing your best impression of Barbara's brother from the beginning of the film. Dan laughed, but caught on, pulling a melodramatic face. 

"Stop it!" he exclaimed. "You're ignorant!"

"Kiss already!" Brian called. 

"Oh yeah. Reminds me. We should probably make things official, shouldn't we?" Dan said, turning towards you.

"Yeah, probably," you said with a shrug. 

Dan held his fist out to you. You smiled and pressed yout fist against his.

"Dating Fistbump," you laughed. "Hell yeah."

"Wait, you two are actually a thing?" Barry said. "I thought Brian was just fucking with you."

"Well, yeah, he is, but as of earlier today, we are," Dan said. 

"Yaaaaaaaay a thing," you said, your arm around Dan's shoulder so you could ruffle his hair. He laughed and turned to smile at you. 

"How does a Fistbump make that official though?" Brian asked. 

"It just does," Dan said. "it's kind of a thing between us."

"We did New Years fistbumps and Valentine's fistbumps in lieu of kisses, so..." you explained. 

"But have you guys, like, made announcements or anything?" Barry asked. You and Dan shared a look. 

"I dunno...wanna keep it on the down low for now?" Dan asked you. 

"I mean, we've only technically been a thing for a few hours, so..." you said. 

"Too early to make a call?"

"Maybe...? I dunno, you're more experienced at this kinda thing than I am."

"Yeah, but in the past, I didn't have a massive fan base that could easily make any paramours of mine's lives hell simply for being linked to me."

"True. Then again, I don't have much of a social media presence so...but if you do ever wanna mention you have someone, that's cool."

"Really?"

"Yeah, like...vaguely. I don't even really know what exactly this 'thing' makes us."

"Seriously, you guys?" Brian interrupted. 

"Well, basically all we know is we both kinda really like each other like that," you said. "I don't know if I'd wanna be called a girlfriend yet..."

"That's cool," Dan said, pressing his cheek against yours for a moment. "But if I mention in a Grump sesh that I've been taking to this girl that's early fucking awesome and I really fucking like her, that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, you're absolutely free to tell Arin about your massive fucking crush on me," you laughed, pressing your cheek against his for a moment in return. 

"Fistbump on it?"

"Fistbump on it."

"You two are easily the weirdest maybe-a-couple ever," Barry said. 

"Yeah, like, shouldn't your tongue have been down her throat the whole time zombie shit was happening in the movie?" Brian asked. 

"Well that's because--" Dan stopped himself. You looked up at him. "Sorry."

"For wh--oh...nah dude, it's cool," you said before turning to Barry and Brian. "I'm ace and aroflux, so physical affection of that nature isn't really my bag."

"So snuggling and fistbumps for us," Dan said. 

"Hell yeah."

"Oh...so...yeah, I should maybe apologize for suggesting yesterday that rumors of you and Dan...um..."

"Doing the frickle-frackle?" you offered. "You didn't know, it's okay. I mean, I'm not actually ashamed of my sexuality, so...and I don't mind y'all making dick jokes or whatever. I mean, I can make them, too."

"It's more like...don't serenade you with NSP songs?" Dan said. 

"Yeah, exactly. Joking about it is cool. But...like, actually thinking about sex itself squicks me out. Or makes me laugh."

"Makes you laugh?" Brian asked. 

"Have you SEEN a penis recently?" you said, causing Dan to snort and hide his face in your shoulder. "They're funny-looking." Barry was stifling laughter into a pillow as well. "But just because I don't enjoy penises doesn't mean you can't, Brian. Enjoy all the dicks you could ever want."

"Oh my god," Barry wheezed. "I'm gonna vom, I'm laughing so hard."

"Can you tell why I like her?" Dan said, kissing your forehead. 

"Aw," you sighed, kissing the side of his face. "We have missed a good chunk of the movie."

"Well, yeah, we were talking about dicks."

"Well, we're gonna miss the car exploding with the lovebirds in it."

"What?"

"Oh. Spoilers. The car explodes with the two lovebirds in it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That was one of the scenes that made the movie scary. Because the main characters didn't die like that back then. It was unprecedented for the time."

"Come on, let's get back to the film and the jokes and the my girl blurting out random movie trivia," Dan said, pulling you closer. "Did I mention I love you blurting out random movie trivia?"

"As I've said. My brain is a fount for useless shit."

"Your brain is awesome." Dan kissed the side of your head again. 

"Shut up and watch the movie," you laughed, poking the tip of his nose. He held his hand out to you again. Another Fistbump. Making things doubly official. Hell yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	32. Leap Day Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT'S LEAP DAY MOFOS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when I don't take my night meds...I write nonsensical sort-of fluff.

“Hello?”

“Happy Leap Day, Dan! Leap Day fistbump!”

“Happy Leap Day, dear.”

“Come on, dude! More excitement! This only happens once every four years!”

“So does the presidential election.”

“…OH. MY. TITS. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“It might very well be, but…sure. It’s not a coincidence. It’s an Illuminati thing.”

“They say that once every four years, if a Republican sees its shadow, we’ll have six more years of bullshit.”

“Have you perhaps not slept much?”

“NOPE! This is what happens when I don’t take my night meds.”

“Night meds?”

“The ones wot are supposed to knock me out the way LL Cool J’s mama said.”

“Wow. Nice reference.”

“Dude, my mind goes in a bajillion different ways when I do this to myself.”

“Why DO you do that to yourself? Skipping your night meds, that is?”

“Dude, I don’t MEAN to. I just forget. Like today. I got caught up trying to pick up girls on HuniePop.”

“You’re picking up girls? I don’t know if I approve of that.”

“Well, tough brisket for you, Dan. Tough, dry, jerky-like brisket.”

“That is distasteful.”

“Yep.”

“So…because you haven’t taken your night meds…exactly how long have you been awake?”

“Long enough.”

“To what?”

“Call you and let you know exactly what you’re getting into by liking me and dating me. This shit.”

“Well, it’s later…rather…earlier in the morning for you than it is for me.”

“Right. Time differences.”

“Yep. Though I’d still probably indulge your sleep deprivation were I actually there with you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

“But then I’d also scold you and tell you that you really shouldn’t skip your meds, at least intentionally. I mean…I’m sure they were prescribed to you for a reason.”

“They were. Are. Whatever. I’ll just take double the dose tomorrow night…rather, tonight. And sleep reeeeeeeeeally hella good tomorrow night.”

“Wait, a double dose? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Nah, not really. I’ve done it before. It just makes me sleep for twelve hours or more.”

“Still…I don’t know if I approve of that.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t do this regularly. And also, I’d probably give you the shit about just because we’re sort-of dating now that you can’t boss me around. You know. Like so many clichés or whatever.”

“It’s not bossing around, it’s more…concern for your well-being.”

“I know, hon. I’m just being silly and saying basically whatever the hell pops into my head.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Chantilly lace. See?”

“Amusing. Though you really should get some sleep.”

“Dude, I tried. But it’s less sleep and more laying in my bed with my eyes closed and trying to go to sleep but my brain won’t turn off.”

“If I were there to snuggle you, would that help?”

“Probably not. I mean, you’re comfy and shit, but you can’t turn my brain off when this happens.”

“I could try. I’d totally sing you lullabies and stroke your hair and kiss your forehead and probably fall asleep before you but it would be okay because you’re in my arms.”

“Aw…you’re sweet.”

“Yeah, well…you deserve sweetness.”

“Did I tell you that Nora just about deafened me with squee when I told her we were sort of together now? Because Jesus. I did not know she could reach such decibels. It was on par with those dog whistles.”

“Wow. I take it she ships it?”

“Yeah. Remember when she pretty much sabotaged your being down here by essentially forcing you to stay with me for the night?”

“That was hardly sabotage.”

“Yeah, well, it was absolutely conspiracy on her part. Trust me on that.”

“I will. Also, I kinda got the hint when she first contacted me and said that if I ever hurt you, she’d cut me.”

“Goddamn it, Nora…”

“Well, this was before I knew everything and…after that one phone call so…it was understandable. And still is. She’s your friend.”

“True.”

“For the record, I told her I’d never hurt you. Not intentionally, at least. And if I ever do hurt you unintentionally, you’re absolutely free to call me on my shit and hurt me back.”

“Why would I want to hurt you back?”

“I don’t know…but…I know I’d deserve it. I mean…especially if it’s ever on par with…”

“Not possible, Dan. Not at all. Don’t ever think you’re on his level.”

“Okay…but…warn me if I ever do something that could be considered close to that.”

“The fact that you’re aware of his douchiness and want to avoid that at all costs means you’re already better than him. You have been ever since we met. Since before that.”

“Thank you.”

“…dude, I wish I could be with you right now so I could hug the shit out of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just…like…to assure you. And shit.”

“I wish you could be here too, so I could hug the shit out of you, too. Just ‘cause I miss you.”

“I’d also totally massage your poor wrist and hand from all the CD signing you and Brian have been doing this weekend.”

“Oh god, yes…not enough painkillers in the world.”

“I’d bring, like, nice-smelling lotion, too. Maybe with peppermint oil in it – that shit makes your skin tingly and cool and nice-feeling.”

“That sounds awesome.”

“And then I’d totally just hold your hand for-fucking-ever…at least until the next shipment of CDs came in. And then when you had to leave to sign more CDs, I would press a soft, lingering kiss to your wrist, wishing it well, and wishing it as little pain as possible.”

“Aw…”

“And then I would pay for your carpal tunnel surgery.”

“You wouldn’t need to do that. Maybe just be my ride to and from the hospital.”

“Yeah, probably. And then record whatever silly shit you say while you’re coming out of the anesthesia. Or just make a fuckton of Trauma Center jokes at you.”

“Bring me cranberries?”

“You fuckin’ know it. …wait, the 90s band or the fruit?”

“Oh. My God. It never crossed my mind that Doctor Hoffman was a fan of The Cranberries this whole time.”

“Yeah, fuckin’…Linger and Zombie and Dreams and all that.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Nah, I’m just awake when I shouldn’t be.”

“I’m reaching that point myself.”

“Okay. I’ll let you go to bed.”

“And I’ll let you…stay awake?”

“Yeah, I’m still there.”

“Well, whenever you do get to sleep, I hope it’s good, restful, lovely sleep.”

“I hope the sleep you’re about to get is the same.”

“Good night, hon.”

“Good night, Dan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	33. Uniracers - Game Grumps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transcript of a one-off episode of Game Grumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uniracers is a game that exists, for the SNES, that was released in the 90s. It's one of the very few games I played at my babysitter's house when I was little. It is exactly as 90s as it sounds. 
> 
> There's an amazing walkthrough of it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqUYln3qwdQ

“HEY I’M GRUMP”

“I’M NOT SO GRUUUUUUUUMP”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE’RE THE GAME GRUMPS”

“…”

“Sup you sexy someones?”

“Oh shit…Arin…”

“Yes Dan?”

“Well…we hven’t even started, and already this game is the most fuckin’ 90s thing ever.”

“Fuckin—yeah, I mean, right?”

“So we’re playing Uniracers. And by ‘we’ I mean Arin.”

“Yeah ‘cause—“

“’cause I’m lazy as shit and just riding on Arin’s coattails at this point.”

“That’s not the only thing of mine you’re riding.”

“Oh shiiiiiiit.”

“Sooooooo I’m gonna play aaaaaaaaaas Mike—”

“These uniracer jams have NAMES?”

“Yeah, dude. And it looks like I’m racing against Bronsen.”

“Pinchot? Like…Balky from Perfect Strangers?”

“I mean…if that’ll make you feel better, yes, Dan.”

“Well, this fuckin’…90s rock guitar jam that’s been playing in the background is making me feel awesome as shit so…”

“Aaaaaaaaand here…we…GO.”

“Whoa, Whoa WHOA whoa whoa Whoa!”

“Oh shit, I’m so fast—NO, Bronsen, don’t you fuckin—”

“Oh god, I am IMMEDIATELY barfy watching this.”

“I am going SO fast, dude.”

“Like Sanic the Hordgehag?”

“Yes, only not.”

“Oh god—WHAT”

“I’M GOING AROUND ON THE TRACK WHAT THE HELL EVEN”

“Oh god, the flashy ones—yeah, I can’t watch this one for too long, man.”

“No, NO. FUCK YOU BRONSEN.”

“YEAH. GO DON’T BE RIDICULOUS SOMEWHERE ELSE—wait, did the screen just flash words at us?”

“Words? Nah, dude, you’re seeing things.”

“Yeah, a LOT of things. This game has VERY many things going on—RIGHTEOUS. Arin, the fuckin’ screen just righteous’d at us.”

“Jesus Christ, this is just one voiceover away from being its own commercial.”

“Fuckin’…right?”

“You mean RIGHTEOUS?!”

“That is what I meant—oh, yay, dude you won!”

“Aw, I’m doing a happy little dance. Like, yaaaaaaay look at me, I’m so fuckin’ cool.”

“Meanwhile Bronsen is like…panting heavily behind you.”

“Which is weird, because you’d think unicycles wouldn’t be able to pant.”

“Well, you’d also think that unicycles couldn’t race to fuckin’ Guitar Hero songs, AND YET…”

“Jesus Christ, that fuckin’ flag…”

“Yeah, that is flashy and cheap.”

“Yet somewhat oddly fitting for this game.”

“Yyyyyyyyep.”

“So…next track—aw, this one’s a stunt one!”

“Cool! What the fuck does that mean, Arin?!”

“I dunno, probably mash the buttons so I do cool shit in the air?”

“Sounds plausible.”

“…three…two…one…UNIRACE!”

“Who the fuck thought this game up? Like, who looked at unicycles and thought, YES. This is the most EXTREME thing we can put in our EXTREME racing game.”

“Um, the GREATEST people, Dan.”

“Don’t you mean the most TUBULAR?”

“RADICAL!”

“INTERJECTIONS! They show excitement and emotion!”

“Something something something something by an exclamation point—”

“Or by a comma if the feeling’s not as strong.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, did we just fuckin’ Schoolhouse Rock up in this bitch?”

“Um, to fuckin’ Sonic butt rock in the background? Fuck yeah we did.”

“Oh goooooooooood”

“Oh god, the flashies, I can’t watch the flashi—dude, the game just splooged at us!”

“What the—oooooooooooh.”

“The hell?”

“There are purple goopy goop tracks that slow you down.”

“Ooooooooooooooooh.”

“I mean, I haven’t touched any, but BRONSEN on the other hand…”

“Sure—oh god, nope. Arin…you’re doing awesome, but this fucking game is…”

“Giving you the Gnarls Barkleys?”

“Yeah. It’s making me feel a little gnarly. And not GNARLY, as the game would suggest you indeed are. But…”

“Dude, is that your phone?”

“Oh yeah, it just buzzed.”

“Then fuckin’ answer it and tell whoever the fuck that you’re currently embroiled in the most fuckin’ BRUTAL game to ever exist.”

“Pfft—oh god…”

“What?”

“Nothing, just…”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Did the game just call you an air head?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, the fuckin’…stretchy candy?”

“YES. Those fuckin’ things...”

“Okay okay okay, it’s really nothing, dude, just got a funny text.”

“Lay it out for me.”

“I—hold on, let me check with her and see if it’s okay.”

“Ooh, HER? Daniel—”

“‘Hey. Is it okay if I share some of these with Arin mid-Grump-session?’”

“Wait, THESE?”

“Yeah, she’s been texting me random shit all day.”

“Is that why you keep grinning at your phone like a moron?”

“Um, it’s why I’ve ALWAYS grinned at my phone like a moron.”

“Is this Prickly-Do?”

“Yes, it’s Prickly-Do.”

“Now, I HEARD…from sources…that you two were maybe a thingity-thang now?”

“I—who did you hear from?”

“Well, Ninja Brian, but—”

“You can’t fuckin’ believe anything that fuckin comes out of that guy’s mouth.”

“But, Dan, he has a Ph.D.”

“That’s BESIDE the point, Ari—ohp, just got a text back.”

“What does it say?”

“…oh my god…”

“Um, whenever you’re done with your laughing fit, Daniel.”

“She says—wait, she just immediately texted something else—OH christ, it’s a follow-up…”

“What the hell…? Is it really that funny?”

“To me, yeah, to you, I dunno.”

“Well, now I GOTTA know.”

“She said ‘tell Arin that I totally liked Brian’s voice for Burgie way more than his.’ And then she immediately followed it with ‘Actually, don’t. I don’t wanna hurt his feelings.’ And JUST FUCKING NOW, she said ‘no, wait do. I wanna see if I can make him cry mid-Grump sesh’.”

“Oh my god…”

“Yeah, she kinda…she’s been awake for a very long time today and has basically been…well, she calls it her equivalent of drunk texting.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. So she’s basically been sending me whatever fuckin’…random little thing pops into her head.”

“And I take it she watched I Burgie Burgie recently?”

“Um, let me tell you some of the things she said about it.”

“Liiiiiiiiiike?”

“Hold on, I’m scrolling…um…’The Youngblood Chronicles called your character. They want their Joe Trohman back.”

“Heheheheheheh…what?”

“Fuckin—It’s one of those fuckin…like, Fall Out Boy, I think. Kevin, put up a picture of whoever-the-fuck from the Youngblood Chronicles.”

“Next to a picture of Dan from the I Burgie Burgie.”

“Shortly after, she said ‘Dude, there’s no way I can compete with the precious cinnamon roll hot dog Kevin girlfriend of yours’.”

“Those are…two foods that should not be mixed.”

“Yeah, hey, Kevin. My girl thinks you’re a precious cinnamon roll hot dog.”

“Ooh, she’s YOUR girl?”

“Well, yeah, I kinda totally have a crush on her and—”

“Oh, okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I—thank you, Arin.”

“Except for the whole internet.”

“Fuckin—”

“Actually, no, YOU just told the whole internet.”

“Well, that’s okay, because she already knows.”

“Aaaaaaaaand?”

“She kinda totally has a crush on me back.”

“Yaaaaaaaaaay.”

“THRASHIN’!”

“Fuckin—really, game?”

“It’s better that HUH HUH HUH, I saw THAT one earlier.”

“Jesus…”

“But what other lovely things has your girl been saying?”

“Um…oh god, things about the new album.”

“The Under the Covers?”

“Yeah—by the way, guys, Ninja Sex Party’s cover album, Under the Covers, drops March 4, so check that shit out.”

“Well—”

“It’s way fuckin’ better than the guitar shit you’re currently listening to.”

“That’s unpossible, Daniel.”

“Well—okay, the first thing she said, in all caps, by the way, was ‘OH MY GOD, YOUR HAIR, I AM GOING TO DIE LAUGHING, YOUR FUCKING HAIR, DUDE’.”

“Oh yeah—”

“I have straightened hair on the cover of the album, by the way.”

“Do you have straightened hair on EVERY cover on the album?”

“Oh, schnapity.”

“Heheheh.”

“But, yeah, that was followed by ‘how fucking long that did that fucking take, bro?’”

“Did you say anything back?”

“Well, we’ve been busy all day, and also, she was texting me a lot in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah. She got NO sleep.”

“Aw…”

“Let’s see, what else has she said…”

“Dude, that’s a LOT of scrolling.”

“Well, she’s been sending me a lot of things, I’m not gonna read them ALL on here!”

“Aww.”

“Well, some of these, I don’t think she would want read anyway.”

“Anything else regarding the album?”

“Um—actually, yeah. Not a funny, but…she said ‘Hate to break it to ya, but I’m probably gonna have a hard time with the ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ cover. Because I fucking adore Lorde’s cover’.”

“Oooh, yeah, that IS a good one.”

“Admittedly, yes.”

“But is yours better?”

“I—you’ll have to wait and see.”

“Aw, FUUCK dude, I am in fuckin’ Twister City.”

“BODACIOUS!”

“Fuckin’ right.”

“Oh, here’s another one. ‘You know in the Goddamnit Ross commercial, when Ross slaps Suzy’s laptop shut and says MILK PLEASE and then kinda flails around? That’s pretty much how my brain feels right now’.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, she’s apparently…well, there was a lull, and then she said ‘I’ve reached that point where I’m so tired that I don’t feel tired anymore’.”

“Oh, I know that feeling.”

“ ‘Also, your sleepy episodes of Sonic Boom are some of my most favorite thing ever. Especially the Lemon Slushies gang’.”

“Oh my god, how does she remember that?”

“Well, she says her brain is a fount for useless shit, so…”

“That’s awesome and totally not a bad thing.”

“Um…’I feel like that time I did drunk opera in college with a bunch of choir friends. Imagine a bunch of increasingly hammered people singing Die Zauberflote and Pagliacci’.”

“Dude, Drunk Opera sounds like the best fuckin’ thing ever.”

“Better that this butt rock?”

“This is not butt rock, dude. That is reserved for Sanic games only.”

“Well, isn’t this basically a Sanic the Hordgehag game but with unicycles?”

“Yeah—”

“The words GOTTA GO FAST immediately flash on the screen.”

“Yeah—Kevin, put that in.”

“Absolutely put that in.”

“Can you tell fuckin’ Prickly-Do that now the whole internet is gonna know about your massive crush on her and vice versa?”

“Fuckin’—fine.”

“I mean…only if she’s okay with knowing because we can totally cut this episode short or fuckin’…dub over it or some shit.”

“Well, we talked about it a little at MAG and…it’s still in the VERY beginnings, so…but yeah, playing the messenger now…”

“Dude, I’m getting a little barfy myself now.”

“I know. This game will do that.”

“No, from your fuckin’ crush talk and shit.”

“Oh, well, that too.”

“But yeah, this game kinda wears on you after a while.”

“Why do you think I checked out, like, immediately after you started playing?”

“Well, you have been missing a bunch of 90s slang, wannabe 90s slang, and me kicking Balky’s ass.”

“Bronsen?”

“Yeah.”

“Ohp, she just texted back.”

“Aaaaaaaaaand?”

“…”

“As soon as you’re done with your gigglefit…”

“She says ‘To Arin: well, the whole internet already knows about YOUR massive crush on Dan, so maybe SHUT UP.’”

“HA HA HA…that’s awesome.”

“I know. She’s fuckin’ awesome.”

“Welp…next time on Game Grumps…we talk more about how she’s awesome.”

“We won’t do that.”

“And we’ll play something else less radical.”

“Yeah.”

“PYEWWW!”

“[lull for end screen]”

“…she is awesome, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Really fuckin’ awesome.”

“Aww…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	34. Videos and Albums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opinions galore. And also some fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all of the opinions shared about the new NSP album reflect those of the author. Some of them are accurate, though.
> 
> Also, if anyone's interested, I covered Lorde's cover of Everybody Wants to Rule the World in honor of the release of Under the Covers. You can listen to it here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnqbzVYCBkg

“Hello?”

“Soooooooooo what’d’ya thiiiiiiiiiiiiink?”

“Hi Dan.”

“What did ya thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiink?”

“Of what? The CD or the Uniracers episode?”

“…yes.”

“Regarding the episode, I have to agree. That is the most 90s game to have ever have 90s’d.”

“I know, right?”

“Also, thank you for exploiting me for the purposes of comedy.”

“You said you were okay with it!”

“I did. And I am.”

“Okay good.”

“Thanks for not mentioning some of the REALLY embarrassing things I texted you.”

“Oh yeah, I wouldn’t do that to you. Just the funny things, and the things that are at mine and Arin’s expenses.”

“Indeed.”

“But yeah, the stuff about how sleep deprivation makes you feel like you have the sick? Like, all the sick nasty details you sent me about that?”

“Yes. Thank you for not sharing those with the lovelies. And thank you for not being grossed out.”

“Dude, I work with Arin, who is VERY vocal about his farts, in several different ways.”

“This is true.”

“You don’t know the half of it and I don’t want you to know the half of it.”

“Aw, you’re sweet. …also, am I really that awesome?”

“Huh?”

“Like…near the end, you said a few times that I’m really fuckin’ awesome.”

“Well, you are.”

“…just when I’m sleep-deprived and loopy as fuck?”

“ESPECIALLY then.”

“Dork.”

“But seriously…not only then. You’re awesome all the time.”

“Aw…thanks…”

“…I take it you’d rather be saying that you’re not?”

“You know me too well. I also know you’d tell me to shush and take the fucking compliment.”

“YOU know me too well.”

“Meh.”

“But seriously…I kinda really wanna know what you think of the CD. In, like, details.”

“Really? Details?”

“Well…yeah. Because you’re also a music person. Like, a really good music person, in a different way, and I value your expert-like opinion.”

“Dan, I’m hardly an expert, especially when it comes to 80s songs.”

“Yeah, but…you’re all knowledge-y about music and shit.”

“Again, not about 80s songs.”

“That’s okay, I still value your opinion.”

“It was pretty good.”

“…that’s it? Pretty good?”

“Yeah. I mean, you and Brian did a really good job.”

“…I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’.”

“Would you rather I say ‘it was absolutely perfect’?”

“Fuck no, mostly because perfect doesn’t exist.”

“Okay…well, first, I should tell you I listened to the album three times in a row. Merely for analytical purposes. First time was to get a feel for the album. Second time involved a lot of pausing so I could take some little notes. And third was to listen more intently to the songs.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Kinda took it as…well…critiques for my high schoolers. Or for sectionals.”

“Cool.”

“So, song by song. Take On Me. Hand to god, I thought it was the original at first. Brian did that good of a job with the instrumentals.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty fucking awesome at that. Also, based on things you’ve said to me in the past about you and low notes, I presume you really liked the first “take on me’s” in the choruses?”

“There was major swoonage, yes.”

“Knew it.”

“I can’t help it! I’m a sucker for baritones!”

“Taaaaaaake oooooooooon meeeeeeeeeee…”

“You stop that.”

“Fine.”

“Also, I loved the chords on ‘in a day or two’. Both because they were pretty, and also because you did a great job at masking the fact that you totally can’t belt ‘two’ the way a-ha did.”

“Ouch. You are harsh.”

“Hey, I said I LIKED the chords. And in my defense, that is a really hard note for anyone to belt. …except for Audrey in that one Instagram video Audrey posted.”

“Really? You’re saying Audrey outsang me?”

“Yep. She also out-adorable’d you.”

“She is pretty adorable.”

“She’s exceptionally adorable.”

“So…’Everybody Wants to Rule to the World’. Who’s better? Me or Lorde?”

“Okay, remember how I was sleep-deprived when I sent that?”

“So I’m better?”

“I didn’t say that either. You both win.”

“How?”

“Her cover-slash-arrangement is VERY different from the original. While YOUR cover is very faithful to the original.”

“True.”

“So they both kick ass in different ways.”

“I can accept that.”

“You’d better.”

“Okay. Next. Subdivisions?”

“The band really kicked ass.”

“Tupperware Remix Party? Yeah, they’re fuckin’ awesome.”

“It’s a fun song.”

“Hell yeah it is. Rush is the fuckin’ best.”

“Oh, THAT’S who sings it originally.”

“You didn’t know that?”

“I AM NOT GOOD AT 80S, DAN.”

“I am making you a Rush CD so you can listen to it.”

“The bass chants of ‘SUBDIVISIONS’ kinda gave me weird vibes…like…creepy in a good way.”

“Cool. So, a fun song.”

“Yep. Ready for the next?”

“Yep.”

“Thanks to you, I now understand the words to ‘Your Love’.”

“fuckin—really?”

“Dude, ENUNCIATION! You have it. The original did not!”

“Anything else?”

“Um…the key’s lower.”

“Yes, it is.”

“…dude, there are some songs on the album I don’t have a lot to say about, mostly because I never really liked them in the first place.”

“Aw.”

“Nothing against you, I promise, babe. I worked at an amusement park for a few summers when I was in high school and college. The same, like, fifty 80s songs were played over and over and over.”

“Aw…ad fuckin’ nauseam.”

“Yep. And unfortunately, a few of those songs are on the album.”

“Which ones?”

“Um…Your Love, Misunderstanding, Rock With You, Jump…I think that’s it.”

“Really?”

“Well, I heard Take On Me a lot, too, but that one, I never got sick of.”

“Ah. Well…don’t hold it against me?”

“I don’t. I hold it against the amusement park.”

“As well you should.”

“Madrigal is fuckin’ gorgeous. Despite not really sounding like any madrigal I’ve ever sung.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a dork…”

“Yep.”

“A classical music dork and I love it.”

“Aw, thanks.”

“And thanks for saying I’m gorgeous.”

“I said the song was gorgeous.”

“That means that, by extension, you think my voice is gorgeous, and therefore, that I am gorgeous.”

“It is YOUR turn to be the dork now.”

“Yaaaaaaaaay let’s be dorks together.”

“I like that idea.” 

“Any thoughts on The Burning Down?”

“Holy shit dat guitar though. And the chord progression.”

“Dude, you and chords.”

“I’m a choir dork. I like chords. Shut up.”

“I like them, too.”

“When chords are constructed correctly…fuck…that is one of my favorite feelings. You know? When just…everything clicks in the song and it waves over you and gives you the fucking chills?”

“Yeah…I do like that feeling.”

“It’s so fucking good.”

“Okay, well…we’ll skip over Jump, given your history with that song. We Close Our Eyes?”

“Again, some really good chords in there.”

“Fuckin’—is that all you’re gonna have to say about things?”

“I LIKE CHORDS, DAN, SHUT UP.”

“Is there anything else you have to say about it than the chords thing?”

“Um…you sound way fuckin’ better than Danny Elfman?”

“Thanks! Though I doubt it.”

“I’m not a huge Danny Elfman fan, singing-wise, so…well…outside of Jack Skellington.”

“Aw, yeah, Jack Skellington…”

“Okay, one thing, it’s really fuckin’ nitpicky of me, and absolutely the choir conductor in me. But your vowels in ‘we close our eyes’. At the end of ‘eyes’, you kinda put too much emphasis on the ‘e’ at the end, like ‘eyeeeeeeees’. Choir conductor in me screams noooooo it’s ‘eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyes’.”

“Choir conductor dork.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I know.”

“No, it’s cool. Just how you are, babe.”

“Babe?”

“You called ME babe earlier.”

“…I did?”

“You totally did.”

“Oh. …okay.”

“…you cool with ‘babe’?”

“Sure?”

“Okay…”

“…Wish You Were Here is really nice. Really fuckin chill. The piano kinda reminded me of Elton John, even though I know it’s not.”

“Pink Floyd, baby.”

“Another of your faves?”

“Yep. Rush, Pink Floyd, Def Leppard…all really fuckin’ good.”

“Sounds like a makeout song. Like, the kind of song that people probably got high to or whatever and then smiled dopey smiles at each other and just kissed, caught up in a haze of marijuana smoke and patchouli and Pink Floyd.”

“Holy shit. That is detailed.”

“Sorry. I’ve been reading too much fanfic.”

“I’d say ‘let’s add that to our list of things to do’, but…”

“You don’t get high anymore.”

“Well, that too, but…”

“The making out thing.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. …I mean, I HAVE kissed before. I’ve been kissed before. It’s just…I don’t know, it always felt like it was a contest of who could eat the other one’s face first.”

“Oh my god…”

“Shut up. Don’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry, that’s just…the best description of kissing I’ve ever heard.”

“Also, just…in all those fanfics and books and shit where they talk about tongues entwining and shit, like…ugh. You should see me squirming right now, that’s how much it icks me out.”

“Really?”

“Like, dude. Tongues are slimy and shit. No.”

“Okay.”

“…I don’t know, maybe I just haven’t been kissed correctly. Or by the right person.”

“Is that what you really think?”

“…it’s what I’ve been told before. Many times.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, just…thanks for not saying it.”

“Of course. Like….I won’t pressure you.”

“I know.”

“…not gonna deny that I don’t hate the idea of kissing you, though. Not even in, like, the making out sense, just…”

“Okay.”

“…okay.”

“…kind of a fitting song, it is.”

“Huh?”

“Wish You Were Here. …kinda was, when I was listening to it.”

“Wish I could say I was when I was recording it, but…”

“We hadn’t met yet.”

“Yeah.”

“…thinking it now, though?”

“Oh…all the time.”

“Aw…sentimental doof.”

“Shut up.”

“No. You’re a doof who misses me and thinks I’m pretty and wants to kiss me and—”

“Oh my god, you’re just like Ross.”

“How very dare you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“That is an insult to Ross.”

“Wha—NO!”

“Heh.”

“You are something else.”

“Indeed I am.”

“…but yeah, I totally think you’re pretty and wanna kiss you.”

“TOLD YA! You totally have a crush on me.”

“Yeah. I told the internet that recently.”

“Yes, you did. …it’s cool, though. ‘cause I totally have a crush on you, too.”

“Cool.”

“…I’m sorry if anything I said about the album was too harsh. I kinda can’t turn the choir girl in me off sometimes.”

“No, it’s okay. I appreciate your honesty and see where you’re coming from. I mean…I’d rather have brutal honesty than ego stroking or whatever.”

“I mean…it’s a good album, overall. It’s just…”

“Not entirely in your wheelhouse, yeah. And that’s okay. You don’t have to like EVERYTHING I do.”

“And same here. Any choir shit I ever send you, you are free to tell me ‘dude, Z. Randall Stroope sucks’ or whatever.”

“I’m NOT gonna tell you that, mostly because I don’t know who that is.”

“Okay, well—”

“Hey, we forgot The Last Unicorn!”

“Oh. Yeah. That one. Well, that one’s been around for a while.”

“Yeah, but still…”

“I like it. A lot. Always have.”

“Cool.”

“Kinda hoping you’ll like my cover, too.”

“Wait, what?”

“Gotta go now. Bye, Dan.”

“Wait-wh—bye, um…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated. (For both the chapter and the video link in the beginning notes.)


	35. Happy Birthday/Pi Day, Dan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's birthday present and birthday card.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'blows dust off this fic'
> 
> Jeez, I went longer than I meant to without posting things here. Sorry about that. So here. Have an extra-long extra-fluffly birfday chapter in honor of the birfday boy/man, Dan.
> 
> A couple of links to link you to. There are two songs I reference here that exist as actual choir-y songs that I really enjoy. 
> 
> One is the "Dixit Dominus" from "The SOund of Music" (aka, the really awesome song the nuns sing at the very beginning). YOu can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tAOkPgPSzw
> 
> The other is a choral arrangement of the overture to "The Magic Flute" by Mozart. (Ironically, the singers are The Von Trapp Children.) You can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F6eJGrd6cTk
> 
> The other song referenced - at least, the referenced arrangement of it - doesn't exist. But you can always listen to another better version of it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uF1Q56YAo0Q

“Birthday Present” and “Birthday Card”.

These were the names of the two links Dan saw in the email sent from you, with the following message:

“The card is for you and you only. The present…share with the Grumps.”

It had been a few days since hearing from you. Well, talking to you over the phone; the occasional text popped up every now and again. But things on your end had been rather quiet, Dan thought. According to Nora, you’d been “busy” with “something unexpected”, whatever exactly that meant.

And in the meantime, the follow Grumps had become increasingly curious about you, as had the fandom (to a lesser but slightly more rabid degree). Dan, not knowing how much of your life you were comfortable having had shared with others, said very little to his friends/coworkers, and practically nothing else in videos.

His fellow Grumps knew your name and that you were musically inclined. Despite that being ALL he chose to say, they then would not stop haranguing him for a sample of your singing voice. (Well, less so from Barry and Brian, but they’d actually met you. Besides, Brian didn’t really need to tease Dan. The knowing smirks whenever anyone ELSE teased Dan were enough.) 

All the fanbase knew was that Dan had “a girl” that he “had a crush on” who called Pokeys from Mario “Prickly-Dos”. What degree of relationship there was, no one made clear to the larger, sometimes more awful, part of the internet. Partly out of respect for privacy, and partly because Dan was still sorting that out himself.

He liked you. You liked him. That was established.

He did not object to the idea of kissing you. Like…on the lips. Not just on the hand or forehead or wrist or wherever. KISSING kissing, making out, what have you. 

In fact, he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to kiss you. Or that he hadn’t totally had some very lovely dreams about kissing you and maybe even a little bit more than that. Or that he didn’t hate himself a little bit for dreaming about the “little bit more” because he knew that was something you didn’t want, and he still couldn’t help but want that. Want you.

Dan shook his head, partly to focus on your email more, and partly to shake the fantasies of you out of his brain.

Because it went beyond wanting you, beyond just liking you. Somewhere deep down, he knew it could become much stronger than that. Probably already WAS becoming stronger than that, and he was just in denial of that, because he knew it would scare you…and it scared himself a little bit. How suddenly…SUDDEN those thoughts were.

It felt too soon. But it still felt…right? “Right” was the wrong word, in some respects. In the “this is absolutely what should be happening at this very moment” respects. But it was the appropriate word in the “yeah, this is probably absolutely what I’m feeling” respects.

Dan closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands.

He couldn’t. Not yet.

“Hey birthday boy!”

Dan probably would have fell out of his chair, had Ross not been grabbing his shoulders as he shouted into Dan’s ear to surprise him.

“GOD DAMN IT ROSS,” Dan shouted.

“What?” Ross said coyly. “Birthday surprise!”

“That is the WORST kind of surprise,” Dan grumbled as he pushed Ross’s flaily hands away

“Ooh, watcha readin’?” Ross asked, leaning in closer to the computer screen. 

“Fuckin—DON’T, Ross,” Dan said, pushing Ross away. “I don’t read YOUR private emails.”

“Ooh! It’s a present!” Ross said, having seen at least THAT link. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t opened the link yet,” Dan said.

“Hey GUYS!” Ross called, still far too close to Dan’s ear. “DAN HAS A PRESENT!”

“And I am deaf now. Thanks, Ross.”

“You’re welcome!”

“What’s this about a present?” Brian asked as he walked in, a pointy birthday hat perched atop his head at a jaunty angle. The juxtaposition between said party hat and his usually stern Brian-y face made Ross laugh for the billionth time that day.

“Is it better than cake?” Barry asked, followed by Suzy, Arin, Kevin, and Holly. “Because this cake is pretty sweet.”

“Yeah, cake tends to be that,” Dan sighed.

“I don’t care if it’s your birthday, I WILL fill your fro with frosting,” Barry threatened.

“Is it from Prickly-Do?” Ross said, trying to get past Dan and look at the computer screen again. “It’s from Prickly-Do, isn’t it?”

“She HAS a name, you know,” Dan said.

“Yeah, but Prickly-Do is so much more fun to say.”

“Not that it’s ANY of your goddamn business, you nosy fuck, but yes. It is.”

“Aw, a present from your girl!” Arin sighed overdramatically. “Yay! I ship it!”

“Dude, come on…” Dan sighed.

“I ship it too,” Barry chimed in.

“Yeah, but you’ve met her.”

“Yeah. That’s why I ship it.”

“Yeah, but it’s why Arin has no right to.”

“What’s the present, Dan?” Holly asked, walking over to take Ross away from the computer and distracting him with cake.

“I don’t know, I haven’t opened it yet. But apparently, it’s something we can all…um…experience? Watch? I dunno.”

“Cool!” Suzy said, rolling a chair over towards the computer.

“Brian, you think this has anything to do with whatever the fuck you’ve been conspiring with her?” Dan asked as everyone settled around the computer.

“I have absolutely no fucking idea,” Brian said. “Haven’t heard from her much since MAG.”

“Well…no better time to find out whatever the fuck…” Dan clicked the “Birthday Present” link.

A window opened on the computer screen. A video began to load. The name of the video itself wasn’t “Birthday Present”, but the name of a high school female ensemble, dated from last week. The setting seemed to be offstage in a school auditorium, stage lights illuminating a set of risers.

“High school?” Arin said. “Dan…PLEASE tell me you girl is of age.”

“Fucking—YES, she is, Arin, shut up!” Dan said, pulling the hat off Brian’s head and throwing it at Arin. Brian reached up at his head and gave Dan an affronted “Hey!”

“Juuuuuuuust checkin’, bro,” Arin said as the video loaded to life with the sound of applause.

On the screen, past the camera, a row of shadows walked. As the shadows walked into the stage lights, it was revealed to be a row of girls, in varying dresses of black. They walked quickly and quietly on to the risers. Well, as quietly as they could, given that risers are generally loud no matter what.

“So, she’s not in the choir?” Ross asked.

“No, dummy,” Holly said.

“I thought she said something about being a choir director at some point, but I don’t quite remember,” Brian said.

“I thought she was a singer,” Kevin said.

“Sort of and sort of,” Dan said. “I’ll clarify later—hold on, the applause is stopping.”

Dan was half right. It paused, only for one more shadow to walk on stage. This one, Dan recognized.

“That’s her,” Dan said. Same dress he’d seen you wear in the War Requiem. Same simple but elegant pulled-back hairstyle. A folder in your hands, which you set on a music stand in front of you.

“Her back and profile are very pretty,” Arin said, with no small degree of joking to his voice.

“Arin, be nice,” Suzy said, shushing her husband.

On the screen, you opened the folder, and a top set of sheet music, before raising your hands, poising them for conduction. You turned towards the direction of the camera. Being onstage, your face couldn’t be seen clearly, but you seemed to be looking towards whoever was standing behind the camera (if someone was). With the hand closest to that side, you gestured.

“JESUS FUCK,” Ross screamed and flailed as the speakers filled with the sound of a church bell. WAY louder than expected.

“Ross, calm down,” Holly said (well, exclaimed as the bell sounded again). “You’re gonna get cake everywhere!”

Three more gestures. Three more chimes of the bell. You turned back to the choir, and tilted a hand toward them.

“Dixit dominus domino meo,” one girl sang, no one could tell exactly which one, but…a soloist. “Sede a dextris meis.”

“Donec ponam inimicos tuos,” the rest of the choir chanted in return. “Scabellum pedum tuorum.”

“…this is kinda fucking boring,” Ross said, which earned him a smack in the back of the head from Holly. “Ow! What?”

“Rude, Ross,” Holly scolded. “Stop.”

“Sorry, I’m just being honest!” Ross said.

“Yes, THANK you for calling my birthday present boring,” Dan said. “Now maybe shut up so those of us who DON’T think it’s boring can actually hear the fucking thing?” Ross sulked as the chanting came to an end with a gesture from you. Your arms and hands swelled slightly, to lead into the next part of the song. The choir breathed with your arms.

“Rex admirabilis,” they sang, “et triumphator nobilis. Dulcedo ineffabilis, ineffabilis…” Dan watched you as you kept the time, hands and arms floating along with the music, the slight sway in your upper body, as though you were carrying the music and being carried by it. The camera was far away, yes, but he thought he could make out the movement of your lips, mouthing an occasional word to keep the girls guided, absolutely intent on them, and they intent on you. 

As the seemingly last “desiderabilis” came to an end, your hands holding the note out before lightly cutting it off. your body relaxed ever so slightly, hands and arms lowering the smallest bit…as your left hand started another faster count,almost unnoticeable at first, but coming to a swell for the girls. And a chorus of “Alleluia’s” bounced off the auditorium walls, to the microphone of the camera, through to the speakers of the computer.

A faster tempo, different count. The sway in your body gone, but your arms and hands still…hardly conducting, it looked to Dan. You made it look so elegant, graceful, all the way up through the last “Alleluia” and the final “Amen”.

Applause from the unseen audience. And, unexpectedly, from the Grumps.

“That’s pretty sweet, dude,” Arin said. “She write that or something?”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Dan said with a slight laugh. “It actually sounds a little familiar but I don’t know from where.”

“Church, maybe?”

“Smartass.”

The applause ended once more, and whoever was behind the camera stepped into view to cross on to the stage. It took Dan a moment, but he did eventually recognize the figure as Nora. Music was in her arms as well. Music she opened as she sat at the piano no one had previously noticed. Probably matching the sheet music you turned to. 

You poised your arms once more at your students, before turning your head towards Nora. Arms watching the choir, but your eyes watching Nora, you began a count. Again, small at first, but growing with intent. And Nora began to play.

The interlude…it was familiar…VERY familiar…

“No. Fucking. Way,” Dan said, caught somewhere between wanting to gasp and wanting to laugh and maybe also a little bit wanting to cry because he, without a doubt, KNEW this song.

“When the last eagle flies over the last rumbling mountain,” the choir sang in unison, “and the last lion roars at the last dusty fountain…”

“Oh shit…” Brian whispered, Dan hearing the smile in his voice rather than seeing it. Dan still held a hand up to shush him, and anyone else who wanted to speak. Because he DID NOT want distractions. He did not want anyone covering the sang you directed, must have arranged (with Brian, the fucking secretive tosspot), the song you were practically dancing to while standing in place, your hands and arms weaving the story with the voices of your students.

It was different from the NSP arrangement. A different key, to better fit women’s voices. Not as emphasized in the syncopations that generally come with rock and pop. More lyrical. Classical. Reminiscent of the flow of a river. More “ooh’s” throughout than he’d sung himself, the “I’m alive’s” held longer than he had…

Still his song while making it yours. Even though neither of you owned it, really (it belonged to the band America and to Peter S. Beagle).

He could not stop smiling. He couldn’t stop tears from making the screen blur and your figure glitter in and out, but he didn’t care. If this indeed was the surprise you’d mentioned at MAGFest, it was the best surprise ever in his thirty-‘cough’ years of living.

It all came to an all-too-soon close, with a resolution to the song (as opposed to the open ending of the NSP arrangement). Interestingly enough, the song ended in a major chord, as opposed to the minor key of the rest of the song.

“Ooh, Picardy third!” Brian said. “Nice!”

“You WOULD fucking know the clinical name of whatever the fuck that is,” Arin said with an eyeroll that could be heard rather than seen.

“What about Picard?” Ross asked. “That wasn’t Star Trek.”

“Dude, that was fucking awesome,” Barry said, applauding with the rest of the audience.

“Yeah…” Dan said. He was afraid to say too much, because he honestly thought if he did, he’d burst into tears. Instead, he applauded as you gestured towards Nora as she stood, and Nora took a small bow. She then turned to walk offstage, making a face at the camera as she passed.

“Dude, who’s that?” Barry asked.

“That’s her friend, Nora,” Dan said, feeling more in control of his emotions. “They’ve been doing choir together forever, pretty much.”

“Cool,” Barry said casually. “…she’s pretty.”

“Barry, remind me to taunt you about that later,” Dan said, turning back towards the computer as applause died once again. He watched as you opened what appeared to be the last set of sheet music you had. You raised your hands once more, and you must have given your choir a smile or a face, because they all seemed to be stifling giggles. Their smiles were obvious, though. You nodded your head towards one girl, who lifted a pitch pipe and blew the starting note. You gave the first quick count, small, then swelling for the breath.

The last song had…no words, really. More onomatopoeia than anything. But it was fast and fun. So fun, it seemed. The choir members were smiling basically through the whole song, despite how difficult it must have been to learn, how shaky it still was, to a degree. (It WAS a high school ensemble, and all live performances had shakiness.) You seemed to be having as much fun directing as the girls were having singing the song. Your hands were dancing this time, to the fast pace of the song, the pitter-patter of it, bouncing to and fro, lightly, to keep the voices and tone of the song light.

Again, the song itself sounded somewhat familiar, probably some long-dead composer. He’d make a note to ask you later. But whatever it was, it was contagious. He hadn’t stopped smiling, and from the few glances he took, his friends were feeling the same. And as the song came to a close, and a final dramatic “DAH-DAH-DAAAAAAAAAH” from the ensemble, everyone laughed in spite of themselves. Only the same as the audience, who then burst into a more raucous applause than had previously been heard.

The smiles from the choir were unapologetically gleeful. You lowered your arms in full, and smiled back at them, bowing slightly at them, a thank you on your lips in word and in smile. You then turned to the audience, stepping aside to recognize the choir, presenting them, letting them take the most of the applause as you gave a bow to the audience. You looked at them once more, smiling, nodding, before quickly walking offstage.

“Good job, lady,” Nora said from offcamera. You didn’t stop walking, but you almost paused to laugh and give a quick “Thanks” to Nora and the camera. And as the choir began to stream offstage, the camera cut.

End of video.

“So…yeah,’ Dan said, turning to look at his friends. “That’s her.”

“That was cool, dude,” Kevin said. “I mean, I don’t know a lot about choir music or directing or shit, but…that was cool.”

“And yes, that middle song IS what we were conspiring about,” Brian said. “Turned out a lot better than I thought. Not that I KNEW what to expect, but…better than she was giving herself credit for.”

“She does that,” Dan said. “She’s fucking brilliant.”

“So you didn’t know about The Last Unicorn?” Suzy said. “Just to confirm?”

“I had no idea,” Dan said.

“You got it bad, bro. I mean, you haven’t stopped smiling pretty much the whole video,” Arin said. 

“Shut up,” Dan said, his face flushing hot.

“So when do we get to meet her?” Barry asked. Dan shrugged.

“I think she said something about Nora saying something about a possible choir tour, but…if that’s the case, it’s in the VERY beginning stages and probably wouldn’t be for a while.”

“Ooh, maybe Barry will get to meet the other pretty girl!” Ross said. “And BOTH of you can have fun choir makeouts and make sweet sweet music four-gether!”

“Ross, have some more cake,” Holly offered in another attempt to shut her husband up.

Dan wasn’t really paying attention by that point. His mind was pretty much a blur of “she’s so fucking amazing” and “Oh my fucking god” and (most worryingly to himself) “I think I just fell in love a little bit”. This was all then followed by “Fuck no. You can’t be falling in love with her. Not even a little bit. It’s too fucking soon for that, you fuck.”

But he put on a non-worried smile (not a hard thing to do) and asked when he could have some birthday cake, before Ross ate it all.

***

Dan opened the “Birthday Card” later, that night, at home.

On camera was just you, sitting on your futon, more casual than your choir getup.

“Hey Dan,” you said, waving at the camera. “Happy birthday. And also Happy Pi Day.” You held up a plate. “I’m having pie in lieu of cake because…math.” You shrugged, putting the plate back down. “I’d mail some to you, but…that’d be messy and the pie probably wouldn’t be very good by the time it got to you. So…raincheck on the pie. Right there with snuggle and National Treasure.”

“Anyway, The card. We had…an impromptu, sort-of emergency way-sooner-than-I-expected performance of the women’s ensemble I direct at the high school. Sort of a meetup of a bunch of other high school ensembles for adjudicated performances. Not really against each other, just…in general. We ranked Superior, which was sweet. But anyway, the songs are the nun’s music from the beginning of ‘The Sound of Music’, an acapella arrangement of Mozart’s overture to ‘Die Zauberflote’ and…well…” You smiled, almost wickedly, at the camera. “The real surprise. Brian knows it. And…I hope you like it. And even if you don’t, you know…let me know. I want honest opinions. Not just on that, but on all the songs, because our final performance is in May, so…any and all constructive criticism is welcome.”

“Sorry I’ve been…not in contact a lot. Kind of a shit girlfriend, I am to you. At least…if you’re calling me that, I still don’t really know, I mean, I think I’m fine with that, just…whatever.” you shrugged again. “But…the performance really threw me for a loop and I’ve kinda been in panic mode, as Nora probably told you, so…sorry, Dan. We’ll talk more, a lot more, soon. I promise. I mean…yeah. I don’t know.”

“…maybe next year we can spend your birthday together. Like, in person together. No horror movies. I promise. Whatever you want to watch…except Ant Farm Dick Hole. I draw the line at Ant Farm Dick Hole.”

Dan laughed. You seemed to sense he would, because you laughed onscreen, too, pushing your loose hair back and smiled…right at him, it seemed.

“Happy birthday, Dan. I…you’re better to me than you know, and I’m lucky to have you…not just that, but…just…in my life. There’s so much more I wish I could give you, so…this silly little video of a card and the other video will have to do for now.”

You paused, almost freezing, glancing down and biting your lip. Thinking to yourself, it seemed.

“…Fuck it,” you finally said. “I’m going in for it.” 

You moved to stand. Sort of. Crouching to stay in the line of the camera. But you walked towards it, close. You took the side of the screen in your hands. You leaned in close. The screen went black for a moment, and a familiar sort of smack-y sound was heard.

The black and the sound were gone almost as soon as they’d started, and you’d flurried back to the futon.

“I…don’t know if I would’ve had the courage to do that in person,” you said, cheeks rosy. “But…I don’t know. It’s easier to do it here.” You looked up at the camera. “It’s just…I really like you…and I should be better at showing that to you. And I’ve been such a shitty girlfriend this past week…and you’re so wonderful…just…I don’t know how else to show it to you right now. But…I can try.”

A silence. You looked down at your hands, before looking back up. You smiled.

“Happy birthday. I miss you.”

End of video. End of card.

There was only one word Dan could articulate in thought and in voice:

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	36. Assassination Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware the Ides of March, because another shitty chapter of this story is posted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a long and frustrating day at work, so I knocked out some shitty fluffles for y'all. Sorry this isn't better than it probably could be.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Hey you…”

“…happy belated birthday. Like, in person—well…in voice, I guess.”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry I didn’t actually call.”

“No, it’s okay. You emailed. It’s cool.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

“Okay…”

“…thank you.”

“For?”

“Your present, dummy.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“Long day?”

“Yeah. But Nora and I are making assassination cake so…it’ll get better.”

“Assassination cake?”

“Well, it’s the Ides of March, and Nora and I have this tradition – have since high school, when we first read Julius Caesar. We bake a cake, frost it white, stab said cake 23 times, and then put red icing at the stabby places.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous but also kinda fucking brilliant.”

“Yeah.”

“I need to experience this.”

“I’ll send you pictures. I’d mail some but, like Birthday Pi Day pie, it’d probably get really super gross by the time it got to you.”

“Next year then?”

“Well…whenever fucking year I actually get to spend your birthday with you.”

“…so next year then?”

“You’re awfully persistent and optimistic about that.”

“Well, it’s ‘cause you’re kinda fucking awesome.”

“Shut up.”

“You ARE. Your present…the concert…I mean…holy shit. Holy. Shit. Brian laughed at me for being a smiling fool, and I don’t blame him. You’re so fucking incredible.”

“Jeez, Dan…I’m literally curling into a ball right now, I’m still so not used to the praise.”

“But you ARE!”

“Come on, I only directed. It’s my girls you should be praising. They’re the ones who gave the song life.”

“True. But you arranged it and directed it.”

“Can we just agree it was a collaborative effort? That way, I can tell the girls at the next rehearsal that a totally professional singer guy said they were ‘fucking incredible’?”

“Pretty sure if you say that to a bunch of high schoolers, you’ll get fired.”

“Yeah.”

“Also, ‘totally professional’? Why does that sound like a blatant lie?”

“Dan, you sing about dicks and buttsex for a living. You may be a professional singer in one sense, but the song which you sing are absolutely not professional.”

“This is true…”

“…but thanks. I mean…for the praise. I guess. I mean, you’re a bit hyperbolic, and like I said, any actual constructive criticism at all is also appreciated.”

“I’ll need to apply your methods and listen with a more analytical ear. Because mostly my brain was going ‘You’re fucking amazing, you’re fucking amazing, you’re fucking amazing’.”

“Dan, stoooooooooop.”

“Nope.”

“Fine. I’ll just hang up.”

“Please don’t. I haven’t finished thanking you yet.”

“Well…I mean…really? It’s kind of a shitty present, now that I think about it. I mean, it’s not really tangible or such. I should’ve gotten you a book or a CD or something—”

“No, no, I loved the video!”

“I don’t know…and then your so-called ‘card’, like…fuck. I should’ve gotten you an actual card. Fuck, I should’ve called you last week and ASKED you what you wanted for your birthday.”

“You did not have to, and I promise you, I love the present and the card.”

“…you sure?”

“Would you be curled up in a ball of uncomfortable from the heaps of praise I bestow upon you if I didn’t love it?”

“…I guess not…”

“Please don’t ever feel obligated to…I don’t know, over-try for me. In any way. You don’t need to go over the top to…I don’t know, show you care. It’s okay.”

“…you sure? I mean…I know I’m not exactly…like other women you’ve dated…and…I don’t know, if you ever do want…I mean, I can TRY to…I don’t know, be sexy for you? Like…send you pictures or something. I mean, I should have done more than…kiss you, like I sort of did? I could’ve, like…taken my shirt off or something, I mean…I don’t know.”

“…I…don’t really know exactly how to respond to that. I mean…I’m afraid you’ll think I’m EAGER for that, which…I’m not. But in saying that, that doesn’t mean I don’t find you attractive, because I DO. You’re beautiful.”

“…shut up, I’m not.”

“You fucking are. Just…there is NO obligation to try to PROVE that to me. No pressure to do something that…I don’t know, society dictates girlfriends are supposed to do, or whatever. If – and that is a very big IF – you sent me…pictures…of that nature, please Please PLEASE promise me it’s because YOU wanted to send them. Not because you think you need to send them to me, and not because you think I expect them.”

“…okay…

“And about the kiss…I mean…when we see each other next, please don’t feel like you HAVE to physically kiss me. If it makes you uncomfortable, that is. I’m cool with…camera kisses? Whatever the hell. Like I said. No pressure.”

“…okay…I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, hon.”

“I know, I just…I don’t think I’m ever not going to be afraid that I’m not enough for you. In…physical affection-y ways. …I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m bringing down a fucking belated birthday message and assassination cake day with my fucking neuroses.”

“It’s okay, babe. You’re fine.”

“You s—”

“If you ask me one more time if I’m sure, I will be forced to send you a very stern selfie.”

“Okay. …though feel free to do that. You’re funny-looking.”

“When I’m stern?”

“That too, but…”

“Ouch.”

“Hey, I’m funny-looking, too.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Speaking of looks, sort of, topic change, but Barry totally thinks Nora’s pretty.”

“Oh shit.”

“I know, right?”

“No, that’s kinda fucking hilarious because I was watching some Grumpout and Nora was there, she saw Barry, and she thinks he is – and I quote – ‘yummy’.”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Hand to god, that is what she said.”

“Shit, man.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna try to extra-hard convince Nora to make Cali one of our stops on the tour she’s pipe-dreaming right now. Though given US, I don’t think I’m gonna have to fight THAT hard.”

“I look forward to it.”

“And you’ll drag the Grumps there?”

“You fucking know it.”

“In return, I’ll drag Nora to an NSP concert sometime.”

“Yes. Good.”

“Well…I’ll let you go now?”

“Okay. We’ll talk later?”

“Yes. …belated birthday fistbump?”

“Belated birthday fistbump.”

“Okay…”

“Enjoy your assassination cake.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

“Hope it’s…stabby? I dunno.”

“Doof. …good night, Dan.”

“Good night, hon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	37. Not So Cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone call time. Shock shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forced myself to get a shit-ton of writing done yesterday. Sort of mini-chapters (well, mini by my standards) all connecting into kind of a sub-story within this story. If that makes any sense whatsoever.
> 
> But this plot-let wormed its way into my head, and I had to get it down.
> 
> Not a happy thing. But...whatever.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey you!”

“So, um…thought you should know, I’ll be in California for…I don’t know, a week? Still trying to figure things out.”

“Really? Fuckin’…COOL, babe!”

“Yeah, Dan…um…not really. Not entirely cool. Um…it’s…not a happy trip. Not entirely, for me, anyway.”

“…okay?”

“Yeah, um…i…fuck…”

“…everything all right?”

“Um…not really, Dan, no. A guy I knew in college, Nick…he passed away. This morning. Like…not even three hours ago maybe.”

“Oh shit…I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s not like…it was Nora or anything. It’s just…unexpected. But anyway, we were in choir with him. So…it’s really fucking hectic and still not entirely thought out. But we’re getting a group together to fly out, do the music for the funeral. I…I somehow am organizing all this. I don’t know that came to be but…”

“Unexpected…was it—”

“Did he kill himself? Is that what you were gonna ask? No. It was…apparently, a brain tumor. He didn’t tell any one of us. Just…all of a sudden, he’s gone.”

“…I’m so sorry.” 

“I know, Dan. …but anyway, I’m flying out very soon.”

“How very soon?”

“Very soon as in ‘I’m through airport security’ soon.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Funeral’s in a few days, I think, I don’t know. But shit’s gotta get done, sooner rather than later.”

“Just you?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well, you said WE were in choir with him. I figured Nora—”

“Yeah. She can’t. She’s got a lot of commitments on her side here right now. She’s also…kinda pissed at Nick, honestly. For not telling any of us. Springing it on everyone like…some sick surprise. …but yeah. It’ll be just me. I know. Barry will be heartbroken.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“Sure…well…”

“Well, just let me know what time you land and I’ll pick you up.”

“Not needed, Dan. I’m gonna rent a car. I’ll be back and forth a lot; it’ll be neater that way. You don’t have to play chauffeur. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Okay…if you’re sure.”

“Dan, I’m sure. …but a place to stay would be appreciated.”

“Yeah, YES, of fucking course.”

“Thanks. I know it’s…well, it’ll be the middle of the day there when I get there, so…I’m guessing I’ll arrive in the middle of work? Grump work?”

“Yes. But I’ll send you the address of the Grumpspace. You can meet everyone there.”

“Heh…I see what you did there.”

“Yeah, well…”

“I may not be entirely…present. You know.”

“Yeah, I mean…yeah.”

“Not…like…beside myself with grief of anything. Just…a lot to organize. You know?”

“Okay. I mean…yeah…want me to give everyone a heads-up?”

“Yes, please. That would be appreciated.”

“I mean…they’ll still probably be super hyped to meet you and probably want to…I don’t know…celebrate? Celebrate is absolutely the wrong word given the circumstances, but—”

“No no, it’s okay, I understand. And hey, if y’all already had…plans for…shit, I don’t know, karaoke or dinner or underwater basket weaving or anything, I mean, I’ll tag along to whatever. I don’t want to bring everyone down or anything.”

“Yeah but, they’ll absolutely understand if you need time to yourse—”

“I’ll be fine, Dan. Really. …I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Okay…you sure you’re okay?”

“YES, Dan, just a little stressed. …my flight’s boarding soon. See you.”

“Okay. Fly safe. Bye.”

“Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	38. Short Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader meets aaaaaaaaaall the Grumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter in this plot-let.

You’d expressed a bit of worry about your appearance, when meeting the majority of the Grump peoples for the first time in person. But Dan thought you looked good, in spite of the circumstances. 

Not so much the “my friend from college just died” circumstances, but the “I’ve spent a very hectic time at the airport, on an airplane, renting a car, and dealing with L.A. traffic” circumstances.

Okay, yes, your hair was in the last vestiges of a ponytail, mussed from the backs of airplane seats and rushing to and from gates. And you were in what you called your “fuck-it” jeans, an oversized t-shirt, worn sweatshirt and sneakers…but Dan thought you looked good.

You’d stuck your tongue out at Dan. He’d think you look good no matter what. But Dan reassured you that things at the Grumpspace were VERY chill. No business dress – not even business casual. Just casual. You’d fit right in.

That said, you hid a little behind Dan, clutching his hand tight as he led you through the Grumpspace, towards the various computers where everyone was editing and Googling and drawing. Dan squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“Hey all,” he greeted. “We got a visitor.”

“Prickly-Do?!” Arin said, head whipping around, eyes alight with excitement.

“She has a name, Arin, but yes,” Dan said, rolling his eyes.

“PRICKLY-DO!” Arin was in full kawaii mode.

“Suzy, calm your husband,” Dan said, a bit apprehensively as Arin bounded over with exorbitant excitement. Dan felt you shrink behind him, pressing into his back.

“Arin, stop it, I think you’re scaring her,” Suzy called as she walked over.

“Not scared.” Your voice rumbled against Dan’s back. “Just startled.”

“He’s harmless,” Dan said, turning back to look at you, pulling you gently to his side. “Come on.” His smile grew as you finally smiled.

“Sure about that?” you said teasingly.

And then, your hand was wrenched from Dan’s as Arin tackleglomped you.

“PRICKLY-DOOOOOOOOOO!” he squealed.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you said, muffled, but laughing. Arin pulled away.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaay new friends who are also girlfriends of other friends!” 

“He’s not normally this excited, I promise,” Suzy said, pulling Arin away with one hand and shaking your hand with the other. “But it is very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise – both you and Arin,” you said with a kind smile.

“Ross, no glomping her,” Dan warned as the rest of the Grumps approached. “Arin beat you to the punch.”

“Aw…I don’t get to hug Prickly-Do?” Ross whined.

“Ross, if you want a hug, it’s okay,” you said. “I just want warning.”

For the next few moments, you were introduced to everyone – Ross, Kevin, Vernon, Intern Jack...not so much Barry and Brian, as you’d already met them. Dan kept an arm around your waist, to keep you at ease. The tenseness he felt in your posture loosened the more everyone talked. The most so whenever someone commented – or teased – about how adorable you two were.

It was a wonderful way for you to meet everyone…and then a phone rang.

“…I’m so sorry, that’s mine,” you said, pulling away from Dan to unloop your purse from your shoulder. “It might be…I’m sorry.” You fished out your phone and slide your thumb to answer the call, turning away from the group slightly.

Dan looked away from you, at the group. Their smiles had faded somewhat. Dan offered a small smile of his own before turning back to look at you.

“Hello? …yeah, it’s me…yes, I’m here…okay, where?...okay…okay, got it…yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can…yes, I have it…okay…okay, thanks…bye.”

You hung up, looked back up at the group.

“I’m sorry to cut this short,” you said. “Nick’s family wants to meet with me. Talk about hymns and music for the funeral. And I gotta check in with everyone else, get my ducks in a row.”

“It’s okay, hon,” Dan said. “Do what you gotta do.”

“I don’t know how long it’ll take, so…but I”ll just come back here after?”

“We were all gonna go out for Chinese food for dinner,” Kevin said. “Wanna meet up with us?” You smiled at Kevin.

“Dan can send me the address of the place and I’ll see what I can do,” you said, looking down at your phone again. “I really should head out.” You looked back up at Dan and gave him a quick one-armed hug. “I’ll talk to you later. It was nice meeting all of you!” You called this last sentence as you walked quickly out of the room, half-running to get to your rental car.

Silence filled the room for a moment. Not entirely comfortable, not entirely awkward. Heavy.

“…I’d…kinda forgotten why she’s here in the first place,” Dan said to the group.

“…so will we get to hear her sing?” Ross asked.

“It’s a funeral, Ross, not a fucking concert,” Arin said coldly.

“That’s not what I meant, fuck’s sake!” Ross said, holding his hands up in defense. “I meant, like, karaoke or shit! We were gonna do that one night, right?”

“It depends, Ross,” Dan said.

“Yeah, she might not want to come,” Barry said. “Which would absolutely be understandable. given what she’s going through.”

“Well…we’ll see,” Dan said. He looked in the direction of the open door, as though you were still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback welcome and appreciated.


	39. I've Seen It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grumps learn more about Reader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the weirdest movies and whatever I like is projected on to the reader. Oops.
> 
> (srsly though dancer in the dark is so fucking good y'all...)

You hadn’t made it for Chinese food. Meeting with Nick’s parents had taken a lot longer than you thought. And once the hymn choices had been worked out, you stopped by the church to meet with the pastor and get bulletins drafted. 

It was at the church you overheard half a phone conversation the church receptionist was having with the church organist. Something about a stomach bug and the kids. But you got the gist. And you made a mental note to work in some organ practice the next day.

You’d ended up asking Dan to text you his and Barry’s address, and you drove straight there once you were done. They were already getting ready for bed. But Dan had saved you some fried rice, and Brian had gifted you some crumbled fortune cookies. You didn’t eat. You didn’t even get ready for bed. You just went straight to it.

The next day, you spent mostly at the church. Getting the choir members to meet up for practice, rearranging music to adjust for missing voice parts, practicing the organ, redrafting the bulletins as the parents contacted you to say that actually, maybe THIS hymn would work better, that Nick had always loved THIS song…

Dan barely saw you at all. You barely had time to talk to him. Any time you glanced at your phone to get in touch with another choir member, there was a missed notification from him. How are you doing’s, hope you’re okay’s, and a “We’re ordering pizza for dinner; that okay?”

You WERE able to make it to dinner that night. And you nibbled on a slice of pepperoni as everyone joked and laughed and asked you questions. Arin even gave you an over-exaggerated attempt as a protective speech on Dan’s behalf – basically what Nora herself had given Dan.

The questions weren’t fifth degree-y or anything. Mostly curious.

Favorite color? Grey. Favorite season? Autumn. Favorite Starbomb song? The one with Arin rapping.

“Favorite movie?” Brian asked. You paused before putting your plate down, looking away from the group.

“I don’t know that you guys wanna know that…it’s…kind of a weird choice,” you said.

“Come on, try us,” Brian said.

“Yeah, we won’t judge, hon,” Dan said, putting a hand on your knee. You put your hand over his.

“Okay…it’s a movie called ‘Dancer in the Dark’,” you said.

“Like the Springsteen song?” Barry asked.

“No, no,” you laughed in spite of yourself, looking up at the group. “It’s…kind of a musical? It’s about this young mother, Selma, who’s going blind from a degenerative disease. And she’s saving all her money for her son to have eye surgery to prevent him from the same fate.”

“Sounds…cheery,” Ross said.

“Well, it’s by Lars von Trier, so…it…gets worse from there…” you said.

“And this is a musical?” Ross said.

“Yeah, well….sort of…Selma has these moments where she gets…lost in little repetitive sounds. The clacking of machinery, wheels running on train tracks, pencils scratching on paper…and life, in those moments, becomes a musical for her.”

“It sounds interesting,” Suzy said kindly.

“It’s really good,” you said, feeling yourself slip into geeking-out mode. “The music is really good. It was even nominated for Best Original Song at the Oscars, for ‘I’ve Seen it All’.”

“Wait, isn’t that the Bjork song?” Kevin asked. “When she wore the fuckin’ swan dress?”

“Christ, that is the ONLY thing people remember about this movie,” you said. “The fuckin’ swan dress. No the fuckin’ song itself. Which, ‘I’ve Seen It All’, she’s singing about how yeah, she’s never seen other countries or famous buildings and she’s never GOING to now, but she doesn’t give a shit because she’s seen what she NEEDS to see. She’s seen her son’s face and she’s seen musicals and she’s seen hardship and war. And Bjork STARS in the film, you know. She won Best Actress at Cannes, that’s how fucking good she was. She doesn’t just PLAY Selma, she IS Selma. She’s so fucking good and raw and real, and it’s so fucking sad, and she swore she’d never act in a lead role again after that film and…”

You ducked your head as your face heated up. You didn’t want to see their reactions.

“I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away. I just…really love that film.”

Dan squeezed your hand.

“We’ll have to watch it,” he said. You looked up at him, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah, I’d love to watch it,” Suzy said again, with utter sincerity.

“I’ll never be able to see it enough times,” you said. “We got a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	40. Karaoke Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karaoke night. With new POV, from Holly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get too excited.

The night before the funeral was Karaoke Night for the Grumps. It was also the first time Holly met you, as she’d been away from the Grumpspace for a convention.

She’d been informed of why you were visiting, and that seeing Dan hadn’t been the primary reason for the trip. But from what she noticed of you through the night, you seemed to be all right. Given the way you fell into Dan laughing at Ross’s traditional death metal rendition of “Let It Go”, you seemed to be more than all right.

True, you hadn’t sung yet. Holly heard you tell Dan you hadn’t found a song in the selections that you thought you could do justice. Dan then tried to persuade you into a duet, which you respectfully declined.

And true, you’d been looking at your phone a lot. Something about keeping in check with choir members, the family, the church…

…but on the whole, you seemed to be having fun. Friendly with everyone, affectionate with Dan (though not overly so). It reminded her of how she and Ross interacted couple-wise – less about kissing or making out, more about just enjoying being close to the other. And occasionally fist bumping. Fist bumping was apparently “your thing”, you’d explained, as Dan ran a hand through your hair and over your back. 

You were really good for Dan, she thought. And happy to be around him, and happy to be at karaoke.

So Holly was slightly taken aback when she walked into the restroom, and she found you standing at a sink, the water running, tinged pink as it circled down the drain.

“Oh god, what happened?” Holly asked before she could stop herself, running over to the sink to help you. But you quickly turned the faucet off.

“It’s nothing,” you said, sounding calmer than Holly thought you looked. “Just…scratched my hand against something. It’s nothing.” Holly watched as you reached for a few paper towels (was your hand shaking?) and drying them hurriedly.

“Are you sure?” Holly asked.

“Yeah,” you said, with a slight jovial tinge Holly didn’t believe.

“I mean…is it a bad scratch? Are you sure you’re oka—”

The slam of your fist against the metal paper towel dispenser made Holly jump and freeze all at once.

“If one more GODDAMN person asks me if I’m FUCKING okay…”

The paper towels clenched in your fist threaded out from between your fingers, little white angry tufts. Your back was still turned to Holly. She couldn’t read you. She was almost afraid to speak.

“I…I’m sorry—”

“No, Holly,” you interrupted, but calmer. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been…hearing that a lot lately.” The paper towels loosened in your grip.

“Right…” Holly didn’t broach the subject more than that. Anything she might say was probably another platitude you’d heard too much of.

“Look, I think I’m gonna go,” you said, finally turning to Holly, smile calm and apologetic. “Early morning tomorrow and all that.”

“Okay. ...do you want me to get Dan?”

“No, no…he lent me a key to his and Barry’s place. I can get in. Just…tell him I needed to get some sleep before tomorrow. And I’m sorry for bailing.”

“Okay, if you’re su—”

“I’m fine, Holly,” you said firmly. “Promise.” You unclenched your fist fully, lowering your hand to push the paper towels deep into the trash can. You lifted your purse to loop it around your shoulder, and looked up at Holly. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

You were gone before Holly could say that it was okay. She watched the door swing shut behind you, then glanced down at the trash can. The towels you’d held were a misshapen ball, threads of red hiding in the folds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	41. The Very Last Chapter Of This Story. Ever.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title says it all. This is it, folks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't do it anymore, y'all. I'm done. Sorry to disappoint. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read this and stuck along with it.

Barry looked up from the episode he was editing, someone walking into his peripheral vision. He blinked, sitting up a little straighter when he noticed it was you.

He studied your face, looking for red-rimmed eyes, smudged streaky eye makeup, running nose. None of that. You looked tired, more than anything.

You’d woken up early, he knew as much. Earlier than he thought a funeral warranted waking up for. He wouldn’t have known if a thud against his door hadn’t jolted him awake for a few moments. He groaned a little, shutting his eyes, and turned in bed as he heard you whisper “Shit…sorry, Barry.”

You looked nice. Though he supposed one had to look nice for a funeral. And traditionally, you were wearing black, of course – some simple long black dress, though if Barry looked closer, a dress that was worn and faded and thinning in places (particularly the elbows).

“Hi Barry,” you said, having noticed he was watching you, giving you a small, tired smile.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Good to see you. Given that we didn’t see you this morning.”

“Yeah,” you said with a small shrug. You glanced in the direction of the nearby couch and began to walk towards it.

“…it probably sounds weird to hear this – fuck, it feels weird asking it – but…how did it go?” Barry asked. He immediately winced. What kind of question was THAT? Asking how a FUNERAL went? How the fuck did he THINK it went?

If you were thinking any of those things, Barry didn’t notice.

“Pretty good, I guess,” you said. “I mean…lots of crying…but…we sang well and…I didn’t fuck up on the organ TOO much.” You wiggled your fingers on one hand, which was wrapped in a bandage. Something about a scratch, you’d explained briefly.

“That’s…good,” Barry said. You sat on the couch, leaning back on it, but half leaning to the side. “Tired?”

“Yeah,” you said, eyes half-closed. “Sorry again for…waking you. Tripped on my damn hem.”

“No worries,” Barry said. “If you wanna take a nap, that’s cool. Dan and Arin have a lot of Grumping to do still so…it’ll be a while.”

Barry hadn’t even finished his sentence, and you were already slipping your shoes off and lifting your legs so you could lie on the couch in full.

“Okay.”

Barry got up, pulling something from off his desk, and walked over to you. 

“Here,” he said, holding something in front of your face. “Poogie will keep you company.” You opened your eyes and smiled.

“Aw…thank you, Poogie,” you said, taking the stuffed pig and cuddling it close to your chest. “And thanks, Barry.”

“Don’t mention it,” Barry said, lifting a blanket that was draped on the top of the couch and holding that in front of you as well. You took it, half-heartedly tossing it over yourself.

“Thanks…god…” you said, nestling into the couch. “Feel like I’ve been hit by a damn truck…”

“Get some rest,” Barry said, adjusting the blanket over you. You hummed a little before stilling enough to give him the hint that you were asleep.

“Get some rest.” It was safer to say than “I’m sorry” or “Is there anything I can do to help?” or anything else, he thought. Not that he FEARED you or anything. But he knew that apologies became somewhat ad nauseam in times of grieving. Hollow. Pointless.

Holly had said last night that you’d left early the night before because you needed to get sleep for today. Dan almost left himself, saying you shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. But Holly had convinced him – a little too insistently, Barry thought – that you needed some alone time, were just going home to sleep, all that what.

It worried him, honestly – how…CALM you had been. In the times you DID spend with the group, it didn’t even seem as though you were here for a funeral. You were open with everyone, laughing, joking, cuddling with Dan…as though it were a normal, impromptu visit.

But there were other little things. How little you’d been eating at meals, always insisting you weren’t hungry. Cutting people off a bit too abruptly whenever they did try to offer condolences or broach the subject of the funeral. How when you thought no one was looking, a couple of times, Barry had seen your face fall. Not to sadness, completely. But nothing. Tired.

Barry was afraid that you were holding back. That your old friend’s death had affected you more than you were letting on. And he was afraid that something would snap or explode, no matter how big or small. And he was worried that you’d lash out at Dan, somehow.

Not just for Dan’s sake. But your own, as well. Because Barry did genuinely like you, as a person. He didn’t want either of you to get hurt. And he didn’t want to be around if…or heaven forbid, when…it happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated. Even though this story is over. Sorry. Goodbye. Thank you.  
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> Happy April Fool's by the way.


	42. Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My April Fool's joke went swimmingly. Got y'all good with that. :3
> 
> Hopefully this chapter sort of makes up for all the FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU FAKE US OUT LIKE THAT. I don't really know if I like it all that much. Seems like the way the chapters play themselves out in my head never turn out as well as they do when I write them. But whatever.

“Sure you’ll be able to get some sleep tonight?” Dan asked you, sitting on the edge of his bed and taking his shoes off.

“Yeah, why?” you said, scrolling through your phone.

“I mean, Barry said you slept for a LONG time at the space.”

“Yeah, well…whatever.”

Dan had Grumped with Arin for several hours. When they were done, they’d walked out to see you sleeping on the couch. According to Barry, you’d conked out since you arrived, which was ALSO several hours ago. 

But as Dan watched you now, putting your phone down and walking over to his dresser to take your jewelry off, you still yawned and shook your head a bit. Like trying to shake yourself awake. What was it you’d said to Barry? Feeling like you’d been “hit by a truck”? And you HAD woken up early for the funeral.

The funeral. He’d asked how it went, and if you were okay. “Fine.” That was pretty much all you’d said, other than a few comments about the music and the organ. But nothing else about you.

“Shit.”

Dan snapped himself out of his reverie to look up at you reaching up behind your back, trying to clutch at something. 

“Can’t get the fucking zipper on this fucking—” you were muttering to yourself.

“On it,” Dan said, standing up and walking over to you. You struggled regardless, insisting that you were close. Dan reached for your hands and lowered them gently, squeezing them. He pushed your loosening ponytail over one shoulder, to avoid snagging it in the hook on top or the zipper itself.

“There you go,” he said, once the back of the dress was open. You didn’t move. “…babe?” Nothing. He placed his hands on your shoulders, softly said your name.

“Sorry, just…” You shook your head, pressing a hand to your eyes. “Fuck it.”

“Hey, hey…” he said soothingly, turning you around and pulling you into a hug, kissing the top of your head as he did. “It’s okay, hon.” Your arms wrapped around him, too, after a moment.

He waited to feel your body shake. To feel tears dampen his shirt. You hugged him closer, burying your face into the side of his neck. He rocked you slowly back and forth, waiting to hear sobs muffled by his shoulder…

…and instead, he felt lips press against his skin.

Wait…did you just…? Did he just imagine that?

Lips pressed again, a little higher on his neck, a little longer.

Nope. Wasn’t imagining it.

“Um…babe?”

Answer in the form of another kiss, just under his ear, your hands reaching up to cup his head closer to you. The bandage around your hand scratched and tickled against his skin.

Dan was frozen. Well…sort of. His arms had dropped. He meant to say your name – well…ask it, in that way that says “Um, what are you doing?” – but damn himself. He couldn’t stop his breath from hitching a little as you pressed kisses just underneath his jaw. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath…

…and his mind was clearer. Well…a little bit.

He said your name. Stated it. Not firmly or authoritatively. Just…he honestly didn’t know entirely what.

“Dan.” Were you mocking him in some way with that? 

You reached down for his hands, guiding them to your back. Dan could feel you pushing his fingers towards where your dress was open, against your bare skin, up towards the clasp of your bra.

He said your name again, louder.

“Come on, Dan.”

You kissed the side of his cheek, as close to his mouth without kissing him. You leaned in…

…and Dan stepped away.

“Okay, hon…” he said, trying not to sound as flustered as he felt. “What…what is this?”

“What do you think it is?” you said, voice low, closing the gap again, trying to make his hands undo your bra. He stepped away again, taking your hands and forcing them down.

“No, really,” he insisted. “I…what is going on?”

“Come on, Dan, don’t pull the ‘Graduate’ shit on me,” you said, trying to press closer to him still, reaching back to pull your hair loose.

“Are you…seriously…?”

“Yes, Dan, I am fucking seriously.”

“But…okay, okay, hold on.” He held your hands tight, arms down. You looked up at him through your lashes, the shoulders of your dress slipping down the smallest bit from being undone.

“Babe…I…okay, I’m…honestly at a loss for words right now,” Dan admitted, trying not to stare too much at your baring shoulders. “I’m…not mad…I just…”

“I’m trying to make you feel good,” you said. “And I want you to make me feel good.” Dan was taken aback enough for you to guide his hands back to your skin. Trying to guide him to trace lines up and down your spine.

“Do you…really want--?”

“Yes, Dan, I want this,” you said, reaching up on your tiptoes and trying to close the gap.

“Babe, that’s…” Dan gently pushed you down. “There’s a difference. Between wanting THIS and wanting…well, a person.”

“I know. And don’t you want me, baby?”

The shoulders of your dress had completely fallen now. One of your bra straps loosened and fell off your shoulder. You didn’t move to fix it. You just stared at him. Dan swallowed.

“…yes. Admittedly…yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Do you want me?”

“I said that already.”

“You said you want THIS. Do you want ME?”

“Yes, I want you to make me feel good. I said that already, too.”

“That’s…that’s still not the same. That’s wanting the feeling, not the person.”

“Dan, what fucking difference does it make?” you asked, almost snapping. 

“I don’t think you actually want this.”

“How do you know what I think?”

“…okay, admittedly, I don’t know your thought processes but—”

“Just FUCK me, Dan,” you said fiercely. “I want you to have me, I’m letting you have me. Shouldn’t this be the opposite of a problem for you?”

“…wait, HOLD on—”

“Shouldn’t we already be on the bed, getting to it? I mean…that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? Oh my god, my asexual girlfriend wants me to fuck her, Hanukkah has come early.”

“Wait, WHAT?” Dan asked, incredulous. “Why the fuck would I ever think that?”

“Well, you were putting words in my mouth,” you said, almost nastily. “How the fuck does it taste?”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Dan said. “I just don’t want to take advantage of—” 

“What? The position you’re in? Me? I’m not drunk, Dan. I’m of sound mind. I’m fucking consenting. There’s no fucking advantage to take.”

“But I still don’t know if you really want this!” Dan finally snapped, wincing at how loud it had come out. “Okay? You’re…your friend just died. You’ve just spent the week helping arrange his funeral and play for it. And you keep insisting you’re fine and I don’t know if you are, and I’ve tried not to be nosy or overbearing because I KNOW you’ve heard a lot of shit over and over and over but you won’t TALK to me! You won’t talk to anyone!”

“…fuck you, Dan,” you said, face red with anger. “Just…FUCK you.” You pulled your dress up and bunched it in the back, trying to hold it closed as you made for the door.

“What are you--?”

“You don’t fucking want me, I get it.”

“I did not say that!”

“Well, it’s not like you were very fucking responsive to my advances!”

“I was shocked, okay?”

“Shocked that your girlfriend wanted to show you affection? Yeah fucking right.”

“Oh my god—”

You slammed your fist against his door and wheeled on him.

“What the fuck do you want, Dan?” you spat. “If you don’t want me, then what do you want?”

“When did I ever say I didn’t want you?” Dan asked, matching your tone. “I do want you! I want to talk on the phone with you because I fucking love hearing your voice! I want to cower like a little baby when we watch scary movies because I like being close to you! I want you to fucking TALK to me!”

Dan broke off, looking away for a moment.

“Look…your friend died,” he said, once he felt calmer. “I know you said it wasn’t like it was Nora…but he was still your friend. And I’m worried that you’ve just been bottling everything up and trying not to feel anything regarding it because I know – I KNOW – that grief sucks. Losing someone you care about sucks. It sucks hard. But…not wanting to feel it by feeling something else…” He looked up at you. “I don’t want our first time…YOUR first time…to be because of that. It’s not fair to you. At all.”

You were looking down, arms crossed, occasionally reaching to pull your dress back up. Dan took a hesitant step forward.

“Please…please talk to me,” Dan whispered. You shook your head, so slight Dan thought he’d imagined it. “Please?”

“No no…” you whispered. “Not that…just…” You shook your head again.

“It’s okay.”

“…okay?” you finally said, voice dull…but not. “So maybe Nora wasn’t the only one pissed at Nick for…” You kept on shaking your head. “God damn…he didn’t tell anyone, Dan. Not a fucking one of us. Not until it was too fucking late. Just out of the fucking blue. And I know it’s not like he fucking killed himself but it FEELS like that, a little bit. And I’m so FUCKING mad at him. And I HATE myself for it because what kind of fucking awful person hates the dead?”

You held up your bandaged hand.

“Told everyone it was a scratch,” you said, voice raising the more you spoke. “I punched the fucking…paper towel thing in the bathroom at Karaoke Night. I just…needed to hit something because FUCK him. FUCK Nick for fucking leaving like that! Fuck his parents for not telling anyone! And FUCK ME for thinking this, DAMN IT!”

You whirled around to hit the door again. Hard. Dan jumped up as you screamed more profanities, slumping against the door. He gathered you into his arms, sinking to the ground with you.

“Shh…shh…it’s okay, it’s okay,” Dan whispered as you wailed. He pulled you closer into him as you curled into yourself, cradling your hand. He rocked you slowly, back and forth, holding you tight, humming lullabies he wasn’t sure existed and songs he had no words for. He didn’t say anything else. He knew it hurt. He knew you hurt. Inside and out. He glanced over at your hand, looking for new bloodstains on the bandage. He ran his thumb over your other hand, over and over, stopping when you reached to hold it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered some time later, voice husky. “For…everything.”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“It’s not…” You looked up at him, pulling away slightly so he could see you clearly. “You were right...I was trying to…not feel this by…and that wasn’t fair to you.” Dan reached up to wipe a tear away. You looked away shyly. His hand lingered against your cheek. You turned your head to kiss his palm. “I’m sorry for teasing you.”

“You weren’t teasing me,” he said, gently nudging your face up to look at him. “It’s okay.”

“…thank you,” you said shakily. “For…stopping me. …I don’t know if a lot of other guys would’ve done that. Would’ve seen it as their opening or…something.”

“Well…a lot of other guys are pricks,” Dan said matter-of-factly. You snorted, a smile creeping on to your face.

“Do you…do you really want me?” you asked. “Like…like that?”

“Yes…and no,” Dan said. “In that…yes, a part of me wants you like that. But there are a lot of other parts to you that I want more. Like the phone calls and the cuddles and the scary movie—okay, not so much the scary movies, but…you get what I mean. That one want doesn’t invalidate all the other wants.”

“…I wish I wanted you like that,” you said, looking down. “I’m sorry I don’t…I’m sorry if I made you think I did for—”

“It’s okay, hon,” Dan said. “Grief sucks. And…there is no obligation or…expectancy. Like I said, your first time should be really fucking meaningful.”

“…you also said ‘our first time’ earlier, are you that confident?” you said, with enough of a lilt to let Dan know you were joking.

“More like ‘hopeful’,” Dan joked. “But…even if WE don’t have a first time – even if your first is with someone else, it should be with someone who fucking treasures you. Someone who loves you. Someone who wants every part of you, and not just your body or some societal token or a notch in their belt.”

“…and if I never want a first?” you asked.

“We’ve been over this, hon,” Dan said. “That’s okay, too.” You rested your head on his shoulder.

“You’re wonderful,” you whispered. “I don’t fucking deserve you. Not after today.”

“Well…you’re still stuck with me?” Dan said. You nudged against him and giggled. “Now come on. Cuddling is nice, but the floor is really fucking uncomfortable.”

“True. …and I’m still really fucking tired.”

“Me too.” Dan stood and reached down to help you up.

“Thank you…for…getting my zipper earlier, too,” you said, still clutching at your dress to keep it from falling down. “…sure you didn’t have an ulterior motive?”

“Nope!” 

“Didn’t want me to slip into something more…comfortable?” you asked, jokingly seductive. “Like pajama pants and an oversized novelty shirt?”

“Oh god, SO fucking sexy, babe,” Dan moaned. You smacked the back of his head.

“Ya doof.”

“Yeah…but I’m YOUR doof.”

“Fucking really? That cliché?”

“How about we just get ready for bed and then sleep until two days from now?”

“That. Sounds. Amazing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	43. But...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meh. i dunno how i feel about this one either. it feels necessary though.
> 
> i just get nervous. every time i post a chapter. because...i don't know, i feel like it's not gonna meet expectations...or that i'll write something that'll make all y'all hate me and want to abandon this story.
> 
> forgive my extreme paranoia.

“Everything okay?” Barry asked Dan the next morning.

“Yeah, why?” Dan asked, not looking up from his iPhone and sipping some green tea.

“Well, it’s just…” Barry gestured somewhat noncommittally. At Dan, the kitchen, the door.

“Oh, well…she said something about feeling really bad about Holly,” Dan explained, “so she got up really early and went out to get stuff to make muffins as a peace offering. So…she’s probably en route to La Casa O’Donovan…a.”

Barry snorted at the use of unnecessary suffix.

“Not exactly what I meant, man,” he said after a moment. Dan’s thumb paused on his phone screen. “I mean, it’s absolutely none of my business, and you don’t have to tell me anything. But…I mean, I heard some stuff last night. And not everything, just enough to know that stuff was going on and then I put my headphones on, listened to some Scottish pirate metal or whatever but…if you need to hash stuff out…”

“It’s cool, man,” Dan said, looking up at Barry with a small smile. “…I mean, you’re right, it is ABSOLUTELY none of your business. But I appreciate the offer.” Barry nodded.

“Is…she okay?” Barry asked.

“I mean…I don’t know what all you heard, but…we didn’t DO anything, if that’s what you mean,” Dan said.

“No no, I meant…just…in general,” Barry said, holding his hands up in defense he didn’t really need. “Like…I know the week wasn’t easy for her. Like, it was getting to her more than she was letting on, at least…I assume so. And I know she hurt her hand somehow – not just the scratch but…”

“Yeah, she did punch the door a few times,” Dan said. He stared into his mug of green tea before taking a long sip. “I think she’s better now, though. For talking. …I knew she was holding back, too. But I wasn’t going to push her…until…”

“Until,” Barry said. “You don’t have to—”

“I know, but…okay, if I talk about this—”

“I promise not to tell anyone because it’s none of my business to begin with and I know her scary hot friend Nora will be out for my blood.”

“Scary AND hot, or scary hot?” Dan asked, arching an eyebrow.

“…yes?” Barry said. “But that’s beside the point.”

“True,” Dan said. “…okay…I mean…I’ve done similar in the past. Trying to cover up scarier feelings by just…fucking the pain away or whatever. And I didn’t want her to wake up and discover she’d made a mistake.” Dan held a hand up, as though expecting Barry was going to interrupt. “And that’s not a pity party remark for me, it’s…she deserves better than that. So much better than that. And it wasn’t going to solve anything if it had happened.”

“…was it hard to make that call?” Barry said, wincing a little. “I mean…I don’t mean it in the sense that that’s all you want from a lady but—”

“No no, I get what you mean,” Dan said, shaking his head with a little laugh. “No. It wasn’t hard. She just…surprised me, more than anything. But…everything kind of clicked in my head. Like…what was really going on. What she really wanted. And I wasn’t gonna…”

“…give in?”

“No, not that. It wasn’t like I was going ‘wait, is this really happening, finally?’ or anything. It was more ‘wait, WHAT’S happening?’.”

“Did you want to, though?” Barry asked “Or…do you want to?” Dan looked up at him. “I know, I know, it’s none of my business.”

“I mean…I DO…” Dan winced. “I hate saying it like that, because…”

“Because she’s ace?”

“No—well…it feels like it cheapens her, if I say it like that. Like, that’s the only reason I’m with her, and it’s NOT. But…yeah, I’ve had some dreams…and I wake up, and I feel awful about it, sometimes. Like, my brain can’t help but force me to imagine something she doesn’t want, just because that’s the way it’s been with so many other women.”

“I mean, dreams are dreams, man. Those shouldn’t make you feel bad.”

“Yeah, but aren’t dreams supposed to be, like, your subconscious telling you what you really want?”

“Well, how often do you have those kinds of dreams about her?”

Dan pursed his lips before, downing the rest of his green tea in one gulp.

“It’s only happened a few times. But enough to…I don’t know, sort of force myself not to dream that way anymore?” Dan tried to explain. “Like…I try to control my dreams not to be that way, if I feel like they could be going down that route.”

“Sounds like you want Leonardo and Juno and company to inception the heck out of your brain,” Barry said, faux wisely, stroking his beard as he did.

“Shut up.” Dan was trying not to laugh, but nothing doing. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love sex as much as the next sex-having guy, but I—”

He stopped. Barry raised his eyebrows.

“But you…”

“Nope.”

“…nope?”

“Nope.” Dan sounded more firm than he looked. “It’s too soon. I’m not saying it. I mean…jeez, we’ve only known each other not even five months. And we’ve been together even less than that.”

“Okay, man,” Barry said, once again on a defense he wasn’t sure of. “I mean…I didn’t say anything, or suggest anything.”

“You didn’t need to. I didn’t need to. I’m not going to.” 

A pause.

“…not yet.”

“Whatever, Meg from Hercules.”

“How about you shut up, whichever of the Muses you hated the most?”

“Joke’s on you, they’re all awesome.”

“Beside the point, Barry.”

“Okay, okay, so…right now it’s ‘you love sex, but…’”

“Yep. I love sex, but…”

“…and you love buttsex.”

“Barry, I will fucking throttle you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback welcome and appreciated.


	44. People Will Say...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunchtime later that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this chapter came out of nowhere. But whatever. Also Nora appears again.
> 
> The song sung in the recital is "People Will Say We're In Love" from the musical "Oklahoma". Which I have heard sung in a senior recital before.

“JESUS CHRISTMAS ARBOR DAY!”

Your rental car had come to a screeching halt, even though you had the green light. That’s because one last reckless car had sped through the red light – a red light which had been red for at least seven seconds.

“Suzy, did she just say Arbor Day?” Holly asked from the back. Suzy, who was in the passenger seat, blinked. She seemed to be in the state of slight shock you were in.

“Yep,” she finally said.

“Are L.A. drivers always like this?” you asked as you finally moved the car along.

“Not always,” Suzy said. “Just the dickish ones.”

“Hmm…”

“Gimme a heads-up next time before you do that,” Holly said. “I don’t want dan dan noodles and moo goo gai pan to go flying everywhere in this…I’d say ‘nice rental car’, but that’s being generous.”

“Well, Dan Dan will just have to suffer without his noodles, then,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“Please actually call him that when we get there,” Suzy giggled.

“Hey Dan! Your you you noodles have arrived!” you called, sending Suzy and Holly into gigglefits. “But yeah, Holly, I’ll keep an eye out for dickish drivers and warn you if sudden stops are ahead.”

“We’re almost there, Hols, so…no need to worry,” Suzy said.

“Sweeeeeeeeet, because my thighs are burning,” Holly said. “These containers are hot.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about the food having gone cold mid-transit,” you offered. “Now, if we’d ordered SUSHI, on the other hand…”

“Oh my god…oh my god…how does Dan put up with you?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“I like this side of you!” Holly said. “I mean…you laughing and joking and all.”

“Yeah…haven’t done a lot of that this week…” The car got quiet for a moment, save for a disconcerting buzz coming from something in the rental car. “Sorry again, Holly, for—”

“Lady, if you apologize one more time, I’m gonna shove unwrapped fortune cookies down your throat,” Holly said. “You apologized earlier today, a lot, with muffins even.”

“You made muffins?” Suzy said.

“I can come over tonight and make muffins for you and Arin,” you offered. “It’ll beat packing.”

“Aw, you don’t have to,” Suzy said. “It’s okay. I mean, driving to pick up lunch was cool of you, so…we’re even.”

“Not withstanding the fact that you spent the drive to pick up the takeout harping on and on about wanting to do my makeup for a video?” you deadpanned.

“Okay, in my defense, I was half-joking,” Suzy said. “But maybe next time you’re in town and have to do a concert or something! Stage makeup ro whatever.”

“Hell yeah,” you played along. “Queen of the Night rocking the cat eye.”

“Queen of the Night?”

“Magic Flute. She sings ‘Der holle rache’. One of those arias pop culture will go for when they need an opera reference.”

“Can you sing a little bit of it?”

“Yes, but I’m not going to.”

“Aw.”

“Holly, the notes in that beast are hella high, and I’m not warmed up. I don’t want to deafen you.”

“So, definitely makeup time next time you’re here?” Suzy confirmed as you made the turn into the parking lot for the Grumpspace.

“Defs ,Suze,” you said. “If it’ll make you happy.”

“It’ll make me ecstatic,” Suzy said with a bright smile. “I’ll make you the most gothic glam Queen of the Night ever.”

“Actually, your aesthetic is something the Queen of the Night would totally rock,” you said after a moment’s thought.

***

You ended up not using the “you you noodles” joke on Dan. Mostly because as soon as you entered, Ross shouted your name in the whiniest tone musterable.

“BARRY STOLE YOUR PHONE!” said whine continued.

“Dan, here’s some rice, please shut Ross up,” you pleaded to your approaching boyfriend. 

“Will do!” he said happily, kissing your cheek. “But he is right. Sort of. Barry DOES have your phone.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it rang about five minutes ago,” Dan said, opening a carton to see if it was indeed rice inside.

“But why did he answer it?” you asked, taking the carton away from Dan to stop him from eating the rice with his hands. He pouted. You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Well, technically, BRIAN answered it for reasons of fuckery, and Barry stole it away to rescue Nora from said fuckery.”

“Nora?” you said, giving the carton back to Dan and looking around to find Barry. Barry was standing in the kitchen, facing a pantry corner, quiet on his end, but smiling softly. You knocked on the pantry door next to him, and he looked up. You waved innocently.

“Oh…yeah, she just got back,” Barry told Nora. A pause. “Yeah…yeah, nice meeting you too…yeah, here she is…bye.”

Barry handed you your phone, with a look not unlike a child that had been shaking a Christmas present, trying to find out what was inside.

“Sorry about that Nora,” you greeted. “What’s up?”

“Hey, no, not your fault,” Nora said. “Actually…yeah, it is. Why would you leave your phone alone?”

“I went with the girls to pick up food, it didn’t take THAT long!” you defended.

“But no, it’s cool. Barry rescued me from whoever the hell picked up first,” Nora said, with a slight shudder to her voice. “That was creepy.”

“Yeah, Brian is like that,” you sighed. “Sorry about that, love.”

“…how are you, love?” she asked. “How was…everything?”

“Went well. Well…mostly. The organist’s entire family came down with a stomach bug, including the organist. So...”

“NO. You DIDN’T.”

“I HAD to, Nora. NO one else was available to.”

“Oh god…”

“It wasn’t terrible. Could have gone worse. But the rest of the music itself was good.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be there. To help, or sing, or…just be there for support.”

“It’s okay, hon. You were busy. And…”

“And…”

“Yeah…I kinda…get how you were feeling about Nick, too. Kinda…blew up in front of Dan.”

“Oh…oh no…”

“He’s…Nora, he’s been amazing about it all. He stopped me from…making a really big fucking mistake.”

“Really? What was it?”

“Um…pretty much exact wording, hon.”

“O—OH. Did you--?”

“No. Dan made sure of that.”

“Did you WANT to? I mean…I’ve met the guy. He’s fine as hell. I wouldn’t blame you. You know…”

“Yeah. But…no. No, not really. I just…wanted to not feel like a piece of shit. To not feel the hurt and anger and sad that I’d been cooped up for so long since learning about Nick.”

“Ah. …I think I get it.”

“Dan did, too.”

“He’s…yeah, you’re right. He’s a little amazing.”

“He really is.”

“Well…I just wanted to check in with you. And make sure YOU check in.”

“Yes, MOM, I’ll check into my flight when we hang up.”

“Oh, also, I’m gonna send you a thing that I found.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah. Remember Nick’s senior recital? I may or may not have found a clip I taped from the audience.”

“YOU DIDN’T.”

“Well, I fucking got over being mad at Nick, and currently am mired in the sad wistful nostalgia feelings. So…yeah. Show it to your buds. Show it to Barry.”

“Speaking of Barry—”

“Shut up. Shut up nine times. …he’s nice.”

“He is. Very nice. You should’ve seen the smile on his face when he was—”

“I am hanging up now. I do not need to be subjected to this. Watch the damn clip.”

“Love you too, Nora.”

“Love you, babe. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

You hung up and rolled your eyes at your phone, as though Nora could see you.

“Everything okay?” You turned around to see Dan walk in.

“Oh…shit, you guys didn’t wait for me, did you?” you said, wincing. “I’m sorry.”

“No no, it’s okay, we didn’t,” Dan said. “Well…Ross didn’t. Just…wanted to make sure. You were in here for a while.”

“Yeah, just keeping Nora up to speed,” you said, holding up your phone. As you did, the screen lit up. You turned it towards you and looked at the screen, smiling at the name of the link. “Oh my god…”

“What?”

“Nora was going through some old stuff and found…well…”

You walked into the Grumpspace, holding your phone up.

“Hey all,” you announced. “You’re finally gonna hear me sing a thing.”

There were cheers around the table, some more raucous than others. You looked down at your phone and opened the video Nora sent you.

“What is it?” Arin asked.

“Well…when Nick had his senior recital in college, I was his duet partner for a few of the songs,” you explained, clicking Play on the video and tapping the volume button. “This was the last one we did.”

The small phone screen zoomed in on two blurry figures on a small stage, as applause from a previous song died down. Nick – the figure on stage right – turned to the pianist and nodded his head. There was a small musical interlude. You and Nick glanced at each other, before you opened your mouth.

“Why do they think up stories that link my name with yours?” you sang. You closed your eyes and covered your face with your free hand.

“Why do the neighbors gossip all day, behind their doors?” Nick sang in answer, arching an eyebrow at you, clearly playing a part.

“I know a way to prove what they say is quite untrue,” you on the screen replied. “Here is the gist, a practical list of ‘don'ts’ for you.”

“Oh my god, your hair was so short,” Dan said from behind you. You heard the smile in his voice.

“Not my finest moment,” you muttered, leaning back against him. “Hair wise or voice wise.”

“Don't throw bouquets at me   
Don't please my folks too much   
Don't laugh at my jokes too much   
People will say we're in love!   
Don't sigh and gaze at me   
Your sighs are so like mine   
Your eyes mustn't glow like mine   
People will say we're in love!   
Don't start collecting things   
Give me my rose and my glove.   
Sweetheart they're suspecting things   
People will say we're in love.”

For the most part, the group was quiet as the tinny audio echoed around the table. You still didn’t put the phone down, didn’t move away from Dan. Your eyes were focused on the screen. Not at you, but at Nick. How young he’d looked. The way he’d looked at you during the song. Obviously acting as Curley to your Laurey, but also with a tinge of pride. The kind of pride a good friend has for another.

You and Nick had been duet buddies all through college. You’d grown as musicians together, in that way. You’d both been section leaders and choir officers, and collaborated in more business-like fashions as well. There’d been a few class projects here and there.

No, your friendship with him hadn’t been as strong as the one you shared with Nora. Yes, you’d grown apart after college, unlike you and Nora. But…watching the video…and god, when he opened his mouth to sing again…”

“Some people claim that you are to blame as much as I. Why do y' take the trouble to bake my favorite pie?” Nick sang to you, mocking slight accusation. You, on the screen, had the decency to act bashful. “Grantin' your wish, I carved our initials on that tree. Jist keep a slice of all the advice you give so free.”

“Fuck…I’d forgotten just how good he was…” you said, more to yourself than the group. Though they’d all heard you. Your free hand went back up to your mouth as Nick sang his verse heartily. The screen blurred.

“Don't praise my charm too much   
Don't look so vain with me   
Don't stand in the rain with me   
People will say we're in love!   
Don't take my arm too much   
Don't keep your hand in mine   
Your hand feels so grand in mine   
People will say we're in love!   
Don't dance all night with me   
Till the stars fade from above.   
They'll see it's alright with me   
People will say we're in love.”

The applause came from both the phone and from the table. You blinked through your tears and looked up to smile at the group. Then back down at the screen. Nick took your hand for a bow. Afterwards, he held a hand out to you, to give you recognition of your own. You returned it because, hey – it had been HIS recital. He bowed again, then leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“Aw…” Dan cooed, hugging you closer. The contact just made the tears well more.

“I’m sorry, you guys,” you said voice choked. “It’s just…” You put your phone down and turned to hide your face in Dan’s shoulder.

“He had a beautiful voice,” Kevin said. “…and so do you, by the way.”

“Yeah, you’re awesome,” Vernon said.

“Hey, come on, give her a moment,” Dan said, looking down at your head before pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Aw…” Arin sighed.

“I’m fine, Dan,” you said, looking up at him, wiping your eyes before looking at the table. “Sorry. It just…hit me that…he’s really gone.” You gave them a watery smile. “And…how crap I used to be.”

“SACRILEGE!” Arin declared.

“Like hell,” you called over the laughter from the table. “It’s been several years since then. My voice has matured.”

“But you have not?” Arin shot back.

Laughter came from the table, and from you, once more. 

After a few moments, you all sat around the table, eating the takeout that was still somewhat warm, chatting, laughing, joking. Every now and again, Dan’s hand would slip under the table to rest on your knee. His way of making sure you were still okay. You would rest your hand on top of his, curling your fingers around his to flip them over, and squeeze his hand. Your way of telling him you were fine.

You couldn’t stare at each other through the whole meal, of course. That would be rude. But the hand talk, coupled with quick glances, was enough reassurance.

You were feeling a little more like yourself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	45. Fistbumps of Adoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are pictures and texts and stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enh...this one felt necessary. And is also just me writing a text conversation by rambling about whatever shit popped into my head.
> 
> And also, just bringing the "reader goes to Cali for a funeral" plot-let to an official end.

“Hey, would you be okay if I posted a photo of us on Instagram?”

You looked up at Dan from your packing frenzy on the floor. He was holding his phone up, though you couldn’t tell what was on the screen?”

“Run that by me again?” you asked. “Sorry, I’m a little scatterbrained right now. If I accidentally leave anything here, will you mail it to me?”

“Better,” Dan said slyly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ll fly out to your place and deliver them personally.”

“Singing telegram or something?” you played along.

“Hey, NO ONE mentioned singing.”

“You could probably do something with singing telegrams for an NSP song,” you commented offhandedly as you folded one of your shirts.

“You’re a fucking genius,” Dan said, leaning down to kiss the side of your head. Then he held his phone in front of your face.

The picture hadn’t been taken by either you or Dan. It was of the two of you, from a distance. When you’d played the video of you and Nick to everyone. Your face was hidden in Dan’s shoulder, your body leaning back against his. His arms were around your waist, his head turned and kissing your temple.

“Aw…”

“Yeah,” Dan said, smiling. “Arin sent it, with the words ‘I ship it’.” You let out a bark of laughter.

“He’s not the only one,” you giggled, kissing the inside of Dan’s outstretched wrist. He slipped off the edge of the bed to sit on the floor, on the other side of your suitcase.

“So…would it be all right?” he asked, staring at you intently. “I mean…if you’re not okay, that’s cool. I mean…it could result in some hate—”

“Yeah, but…there’s always gonna be haters,” you said, shrugging. “Also, no one knows my real name, and I don’t have much of an online presence.” You reached for a nearby pair of jeans to fold them. 

“So…it’s okay?” Dan asked. “I mean…I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t want to post it.”

You looked up at him again. Then back down at the photo.

“Sure you don’t want a better picture?” you asked. “Like…a selfie of us or something? Something where I’m kissing your cheek or you’re kissing mine?”

“Well…I mean, only if YOU’RE okay with that,” Dan repeated. “Do you want your face showing?” You looked down, gnawing on your bottom lip as you thought.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “Is that bad to not know?”

“No.”

“I mean..unless you want to, like, show me off or anything—”

“It’s not so much that, it’s just…you know…I really kinda fucking adore you and wanna share THAT with the world.”

“Oh god, you’re so fucking sweet…”

Your head was low, suddenly hot and probably flushed. Dan leaned over your suitcase to kiss your cheek, holding the other side of your face with his hand.

“And you’re so fucking cute,” he said. You looked up. He was smiling – one of those smile that made his eyes crinkle up, it reached that far.

“I really kinda fucking adore you, too,” you said, still feeling ridiculously shy, head ducked even lower.

Dan’s hand appeared in your vision, clenched into a fist. You looked up at him, confused at first, but suddenly laughing at the expression on his face. You made a fist of your own and tapped it against Dan’s.

“Adoring fistbump!” he exclaimed.

“Indeed,” you giggled. “Fistbumps of adoration.”

“Fistbumps of Adoration is gonna be the name of my next band,” Dan said, which just made you laugh harder.

“Oh fuck…my stomach…it hurts,” you managed to wheeze out.

“No, not your stomach!” Dan said, scrambling over to your side and gathering you into his arms. “I didn’t mean it, honey!”

“I can’t help it! You’re such a fucking dork!”

“I thought I was a doof.”

“You’re both.”

“And that would make you…?”

“Extremely worn out from laughing so hard.”

Dan cuddled you closer and you looked down at the phone he’d placed to the side. You looked up at him.

“Text Arin. I have an idea.”

***

Later that night, the picture of you and Dan was posted on Arin’s Instagram, with the caption “I ship it”, and tagging the ninjasexparty account.

Shortly after that, there was a new picture on the ninjasexparty account.

It was a selfie of you and Dan. You were holding your phone in front of your face, blocking it from the view of the camera. On your phone, Arin’s picture and caption were displayed. Dan leaned in from the other side of the selfie, eyes closed, kissing your cheek.

The caption: “We ship it, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So.
> 
> This wasn't originally the last chapter. There were other chapters that had followed this one. But here's the thing. I've honestly run out of steam for this story. I was just starting a whole bunch of new plotlines that would've made the whole story a shit-ton more convoluted and stupid and shit. So...those chapters (and the "author's note/not a chapter" chapters) have been removed. As far as I'm concerned, this story now ends here. Where it probably should have months ago.
> 
> Should I regain a clear idea for a follow-up, it will be posted as a sequel. For now, I am content with this story as it is. To drag it out further when my heart is not fully in it is not fair to y'all. I'd rather deliver to you a completed shorter story that I feel is solid, than leave everyone hanging while I try to cobble nonsense together.
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who's stuck by this story for the months I wrote it. I'd never intended for it to be longer than one chapter, but...it somehow became this. And so many of you have been so kind and so faithful. You deserved better from me.
> 
> 'fistbumps'

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


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